


Journey To The Past

by HerSistersKeeper



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Anastasia AU, Based on the movie Anastasia, Childhood Friends, Developing Relationship, Eventual Romance, F/M, Gen, I know that it's going to be historically inaccurate, Inspired by a Movie, Kylo Ren Angst, Mix of the movie and the new musical, Relationship(s), Rey Kenobi, Rey Needs A Hug, Rey is a princess, Reylo - Freeform, Romance, Slow Burn, Smuggler Ben Solo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-05
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2018-08-29 02:54:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 25,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8472712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HerSistersKeeper/pseuds/HerSistersKeeper
Summary: (Based on the movie/musical "Anastasia")To Rey, he was merely a stranger who had the means to get her to Paris, the place that her necklace seems to be leading her. She doesn't know where she came from, or who calls her theirs-- but she's ready to learn.To Kylo, she was the means to a better life, the doppelganger of a princess he once served-- a princess who has been presumed dead for years.





	1. The Last Holiday

**Author's Note:**

  * For [insertcoolname13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/insertcoolname13/gifts), [Elywyngirlie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elywyngirlie/gifts), [Athelise](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Athelise/gifts).



> Y'all knew this was coming. 
> 
> Just a note: when the name Ben appears in this, it's for Obi-wan. Kylo is Kylo, with a smuggler Ben Solo thing going on. 
> 
> Another note: though I am basing this mostly on the movie, there will be some points of divergence. When these come up, please know that I either took inspiration from the new musical based on the movie, or they are original parts.
> 
> I hope this doesn't disappoint. Let me know what you think. Thank you all.

He would never forget his last holiday at the palace.

The bright ballroom was cheerful, the floors shining and reflecting jeweled dresses as various nobles danced, the royal family among them, deities among mortals. That night, he was the old man who looked on from his seat, graying beard neat, his military garb immaculate, as if his dear wife had helped him get ready tonight, as if he still was the reigning monarch.

As a royal, Ben Kenobi found few things in life that were as joyful as the holidays. During the holidays, the public put aside their troubles and celebrated. Politicians would begrudgingly keep quiet so as to remain on the invite list to the palace’s celebration. No matter the tragedies or troubles the nation had endured throughout the year, they tried to forget about it for the twelve holy days’ celebration.

And despite this year, with the unrest and the tension still tinging the air, lips tight with unspoken grief, whispered thoughts of the battles taking place in the towns around the capital, the violence slowly but surely creeping its way to the palace, the former king was intent on enjoying the holiday, glancing out at the dancing crowd, eyes casually searching. There was a speck of blue amongst the many white and silver gowns, and Ben grinned despite himself, hearing the whooping laughter, an ensuing scolding as his little granddaughter, Reyna, ran through skirts and legs to get to the old man. She was nine-years-old, unaware, or perhaps uncaring, of how a princess was to act at royal functions, her older sisters looking on with rolling eyes and indulgent smiles.

“Grandpapa! You came!” He threw his arms wide to catch her as she barreled into them, her face smudged by pastry icing, her kiss sticky on his cheek. Reyna scrambled up onto his lap, perching herself on his knee and chattering as she always did. Despite his daughter’s complaint that he spoiled his youngest grandchild too much, Ben didn’t care—Rey was charming and had her grandmother Sabe’s looks.

“Of course I came, Rey.” The child giggled at the nickname, jumping down and dancing around her grandfather. “Mama said that you would dance with me if you came—and you did!” He smiled back, chuckling despite himself.

“Your mama just wants to see me trip over my feet…but I will dance with you, soon.” One hint of a pout had him correcting himself, and Ben had to admit that perhaps he did spoil the little girl, her attention quickly drawn to the prettily wrapped parcel at his side.

“Is that for me? Oh, grandpapa!” Her exuberant little crow turned heads, lips turning up into smiles at the youngest princess’s joyful prancing, the sight of the two family members perhaps bringing a bit of hope, despite the dark circumstances around the palace.

“Open it for me—I’m too excited. Oh, grandpapa, thank you!” Ben chuckled as he unwrapped the ornate silver and gold paper, watching his granddaughter tuck it away carefully, declaring it too beautiful to toss away. Out of the corner of his eye, the royal could see a curious onlooker, dark hair and a dirty face befitting that of a kitchen boy. In a moment, that quiet audience didn’t matter, the boy being called back to the kitchen, his lanky frame scuttling away from this lavish world.

Rey’s eyes were wide, her mouth a perfect ‘o’ as her grandfather lifted the small jewelry box out, the smooth round edges snugly fitting into her waiting hands. “Grandma’s pretty box…oh grandpapa…” The old man swallowed thickly, watching the little girl’s fingers dance and explore the box, finding the clasp, her eyes finding his, inquisitive. His hands shook as he retrieved the delicate chain from around his neck, his wife’s crest sitting small and flawless at the end, waiting to unlock the little box, as was custom.

“The family lullaby…you’re giving me the family lullaby.” Her wondrous breath almost made him sob, his hands trembling a little more now as he looped the chain around her neck, watching her study the little pendant, mouthing the words written in curling script: _Together in Paris._

 “She wanted to give it to you herself, but…” The little girl gentle tugged at his hand, quieting him. The loss was still to fresh, and despite her youth, the girl understood as much.

“It’s beautiful, grandpapa. Thank you.” Her thin arms circled his neck, holding on tight as he fought back a tear. When she pulled away, she carefully tucked the music box to its container, to remain safe until the party’s end. He patted her head before pulling himself up with a groan, his joints reminding him that he was aging, no longer the powerful king he had once been. “Now, I owe you a dance, don’t I?”

The question made her giggle, and for the moment, he smiled, letting her pull him along to the middle of the floor. The court musicians looked at the former king expectantly, but it was Rey who nodded at the conductor to begin, shyly smiling up at her grandfather. “I learned how to dance by myself, without having to stand on anyone’s feet!”

He chuckled at the accomplishment, stepping in time with the waltz. “Did your mother get a dancing instructor for you girls?” Rey shook her head, glancing down at her feet. “No, I made a kitchen boy practice with me. His name is Ky—”

 Her words were lost in a deafening screech as the music silenced, as the ballroom’s doors crashed open, a sweeping wind snuffing out the candles, the chandeliers dimming. Ben immediately swept his grandchild behind him, pushing her off, into the crowd, the little one running to her older sisters who cowered by the throne.

“Snoke.” Queen Kira brushed past her father as she approached the dark figure in the door way, her glare focused on the wrinkled face, the dark beady eyes. A shudder traveled up her daughters’ spines, recognizing the name as the man stepped forward, thin lips twisted into smirk, eyes unblinking as he sized the monarch up. In his hand there was a relic, the glass glowing green as something swirled within. Ben felt his veins flood with ice upon glancing at it. So this was the sorcerer the nobles had whispered about the prior year. This was the man who murdered his son-in-law.

“Your majesty.” He glanced about the room, taking in the many nobles, the aghast faces.  There was that mocking bow, the sweeping motion setting the queen on edge as she threw her shoulders back with a scowl.

“How dare you show your face here!” The man looked nonplussed by the hiss, walking around the royal, watching her follow his movements as he sighed, almost disappointed. “I thought that perhaps you missed my company, your highness. Me, your closest confidante, your best general… I sold my soul for your happiness.”

The queen sputtered for a moment, rage choking her tongue. “You sold your soul for power, you filth! My husband trusted you and you lead him to his death! You, with your black magic…” There was a gasp and a murmur around them, and Snoke finally frowned, almost as if annoyed as the queen continued. “You are not fit to be near my family— _go to hell._ ”

His eyes narrowed, and his gaze travelled past her, looking up at the girls who huddled together at the feet of the throne. Ben flinched as the dark man smiled, raising his hands as if in defeat. “Very well, your highness—but only if your family accompanies me.”

He cackled at her paling face, her petrified eyes locked on his relic as he lifted it, his voice calling out above the rising screams and shouts outside the palace, above the dull thuds as a battering ram crashed against the mighty doors, waiting for it to fall. “Mark my words: by tomorrow’s first light, you and your family will be dead.” He fixed his eye on the queen, smile cruel as the shouting outside grew louder, the violence swelling and waiting to burst in.

From the corner of his eye, Ben could see the dark haired kitchen boy again, this time whispering, motioning to the princesses, trying to get them to move. Trying to convince them to escape. The old man drifted back into the crowd now, silently making his way to the throne as the party stood, transfixed, mouths agape with Snoke’s next words.

“I will not rest until your line is wiped from this earth. This is my curse—there is no escape.”

Ben could see that the kitchen boy had gotten Rey’s attention, his hand waving her forward as she crept into the shadows, and for that he was thankful as he heard the roar of splintering wood, as the traitorous general’s troops poured in. He broke out in a run, trying to block his ears of the horrific screams, of the chaotic pandemonium lacing the air.

The kitchen boy had now scooped the princess up, and Reyna knew better than to protest, burying her face into the rough shirt to silence her tears. The thundering footsteps behind them had her jerking her head up, and the girl sobbed in gratitude at the sight of her grandfather. But now she gasped, attempting to break loose from the boy’s hold.

“My music box! I left my music box!” By now they were in a back hallway, further away from the slaughter in the ballroom, but still too close to danger. Ben nearly snapped at the little girl, her concern frivolous in these fading moments, but the servant simply passed her over, jerking his head to the hall behind him.

“There’s a door under the tapestry—there, at the end. I’ll get the music box.”

“But Kylo!”  “ _JUST GO!”_

The little girl whimpered as the teenager snapped at her, but Ben knew it was for the best, nodding at the boy and running. Reyna peeked over her grandfather’s shoulder, seeing her friend hesitate before turning and sprinting off in the opposite direction. He would bring it back to her. He had to.

The boy knew that there would still be soldiers in the ballroom, but still, he snuck back, attempting to keep to the shadows as he crept to the throne. He kept his eyes focused there, on the little box, feeling his stomach churn at the smell of death that was beginning to seep into the air. His masters were dead—all but two, and he could only pray that the princess at least stayed alive long enough for him to return the gift. He was within reaching distance, and he scooped the prized possession up, glancing to his left, now his right.

Kylo knew that it he’d be too lucky if he escaped unscathed, the back of his head burning with the harsh blow, the butt of a rifle knocking him flat, the fall stealing his breath. He could see the bright red hair of the soldier who now stooped to examine him, and his vision clouded, darkness greeting him as he started to slip into unconsciousness. As he blacked out, he could hear the private call out, suddenly unsure: “Where’s General Snoke?”

Beyond the palace now, Reyna ran, attempting to keep up with her grandfather on the iced over river, the usually harsh waters silenced by winter. Her legs burned, and she shivered in the cold, hand clasping tight to the pretty piece of paper she had saved from her present. She kept repeating the words her grandfather had whispered to her before they took off: “If we can get to the train station, we will be safe. We will be on our way home.”

She wasn’t sure where “home” was now, but she would take it—as long as she was with her grandpapa, she was safe. The sharp pain on the back of her head seemed to disagree, and Reyna shrieked as she tumbled forward into the snow, clamping down on the hand pulling at her hair.

“Snoke! Let her go!” The princess could see the fear that hung in her grandfather’s eyes, and she flailed, panicking as the sorcerer laughed, his grip on the cuff of her neck pinching. The ice below them crackled, and Reyna looked up at her grandfather, suddenly afraid of the murky depths below, wondering if the madman holding her realized they would sink into a watery grave.

Ben only could nod at the child, hoping that she understood what he was about to do. She nodded back numbly, trying to ignore Snoke’s snarling rant in her ear: “You will never escape—your sisters didn’t. Your mother didn’t.”

“I will.” Her calm words caught him off guard, and he glanced down at her, realizing his mistake too late as the old man lunged at him, knocking him flat on his back. Snoke lost his grip on the princess, and he clawed at the ice near her foot, feeling the freezing waters starting seep into his robes, weighing him down.

His wrathful scream didn’t deter Reyna’s foot, now as she kicked his head, trying to get away from him as his hand came to close to her once more. In a moment, she was unaware of the man’s shrieks, the sounds muffled as her grandfather scooped her up and ran. She didn’t look back this time, only focusing on their forward motion, only focusing on the heavy pants of her grandfather.

As far as she knew, they were safe now. The train platform was bright and suddenly they were on it, sprinting now. Reyna didn’t know how far they had come, how far the palace was, only that she had just a little more to run—they had a train to catch, and then they would be home. She felt her legs grow heavy with exhaustion, and she attempted to keep up, falling several paces behind her grandfather.

The platform was crowded, and with the crush of bodies, the old man didn’t realize that the child was no longer at his side. The caboose was in sight, and several arms reached out to Ben, pulling him aboard. He glanced about, eyes wildly searching, hoping that someone had pulled Reyna aboard with him, growing desperate when he didn’t see her.

“Grandpapa!” She was still running, arms outstretched, and he reached, catching her hand. “Don’t let go, Reyna!” His large hand enfolded hers, but her grip was loosening, her eyes rounding with terror as she felt herself slipping, unable to keep up with the train, her legs collapsing under her.

She let go, afraid of dragging her grandpapa off the train with her, tears forcing themselves from her eyes, wind biting her cheeks. She could feel herself falling, her head bouncing against the wooden platform with the force of it. Her grandfather’s bellowing never reached her ears as she laid there, crowd gathering around, the train growing smaller in the distance.

Later, Ben Kenobi, once a great and powerful monarch, quietly considered the scenery racing by his window. His throat was still tight, but he knew that he didn’t have any more tears. Not right now. Everything that he had once had, that he could have found happiness in, was gone. Perhaps there was still hope—but he knew that it would be too foolish to hope that his little Rey survived that fall. He could never go back to make sure, the country now in ruins, a price on his head. The train’s whistle howled in the winter wind as the former king wept silently, without tears, his head in his hands.

No, he would never forget his last holiday at the palace.


	2. A Rumor (Ten Years Later)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was so excited that I decided to update ASAP. This story is coming a lot easier than expected.

The city had changed so much since the royal family fell. True, there was the lack of monuments now, the lack of color, the royal blues and whites that had decked out the palace, the new leader having purged any evidence of the grandness of the dynasty before him. The palace was an empty shell of what had once been, many windows broken or boarded up, the front gate closed forever.

But the change was most noticeable in the population. One could see it in the bent backs of the people as they shuffled past the palace each day for work, eyes always straying to the old building, as if to remind them of the time before. The new regime may be fair in the eyes of some, but to many, it was merely boring, with nothing to possibly cause a scandal, nothing to aspire to, nothing to keep anyone entertained and distracted by their station in life. The work had gotten harder without the diversion, without the political celebrities, and the exhaustion from the labor and the lack of hope had thinned the men and women of the country. The capital was no different, the streets silence until you got to the market.

Before, the common people could live off a bit of week old gossip, bickering among themselves over which princess would marry first, over when the old retired king would return to the palace, over the queen’s gown during the anniversary celebrations. Now it was treason to even think of talking about the new government, let alone the men who ran it, and so the people slipped into a disgruntled silence, the country graying with every passing year. Even now, under the white blanket of snow, the streets were dull, much like the eyes of the peasants who walked them.

Today was different though. There was palpable excitement, though the soldiers who regularly patrolled the streets couldn’t quite figure out why, people falling silent whenever a stranger approached, suddenly more interested in their work.

 Poe Dameron watched this from his spot on the market’s outskirts, puffing into his hands, rubbing them quickly, his thinning gloves barely keeping the winter cold out as he scanned the crowd around him, look for his next mark, his next target. His eyes skipped over the common people, knowing that he could never pickpocket a comrade. A soldier, however, was another story…

A minute later, Poe had a weight in his pocket, the heavy coins clinking merrily, the young private he had brushed against none the wiser. The petty thief smirked to himself, whistling as he continued walking, ducking into an alley. A few men nodded at him and he casually saluted them. The funny thing about the new government was that yes, it did bring the people together—but not the way you’d think.

 Petty thieves and conmen flourished in this setting of extreme restriction, the criminals being unscrupulous enough to bridge the gap between illegal deeds and necessities. The common people came to them for information, for impossible-to-acquire paperwork. Poe himself was in that trade, working with his partner to draw up travel papers, falsifying passports, birth certificates, death certificates… whatever you needed, Poe and his partner could deliver.

That was as crazy as a con that Poe would pull—at least, that was what he believed, eye catching to a headline screaming “Million Dollar Reward for the Return of Princess Reyna!” He blinked once, almost rubbing his eyes to ensure that he read that correctly, realizing now that there was an entire line of the posters, the princess serenely smiling from each one.

The face was posted everywhere. The swarthy young man lunged forward, swiping one of the many posters lining the wall in the alleyway, eyes skimming the page as he was jostled by crush of bodies around him. He didn’t really read the poster though—he didn’t need to, with the gossip around him, catching snippets.

“Old king Ben has been looking for her since a year ago…” The two ladies walking in front of him tutted with pity, shaking their heads. “He’s close to death, apparently, and he’s still convinced that his grandchild is still alive, poor fool.”

“But what if she is still alive?” The question was met with a harsh glare, the younger woman quickly casting her eyes down, realizing what she had just said.  “Hold your tongue! Questions like that could get you sent to a camp!” The old companion dropped her voice, continuing. “Even if she isn’t, there’s money up for grabs.”

The con glanced down at the poster again, tucking it into his coat quickly, a smile trying to break onto his lips as he quickened his pace, weaving through the people, breaking into a run as the path cleared. He had to tell Kylo, excitement lending speed to his gait.

In a moment, the palace was in view and Poe was shimmying through the gate’s bars, pulling a loose one aside to ease his way. He waited until he was inside, darting up one of the grand staircases before he started calling.

“Kylo! I found our next job!” Poe stopped short of the last flight, catching his breath, his run having gotten the better of him as he wheezed, doubling up.

“If it has to do with the princess, I’m way ahead of you, pal.” The man glanced up as his friend, tall and lanky, approached. Kylo looked down at his partner, smirking at the tanned man’s scowl.

“You just have to kill my accomplishments, don’t you?” Kylo ignored that comment, motioning his friend to follow as he took the stairs up, two at a time, almost as if he wanted to see the other man jog to keep up.

The ten years between his old life and the present had been relatively kind to Kylo, his face no longer that of a teenage kitchen boy, dark eyes glancing at the once grand walls. Out of habit, his hand reached out, patting a royal portrait as he walked by, the youngest princess serenely staring out from the canvas. There was a twinge of regret, maybe even of sadness as he felt the poster in his pocket with every step. She didn’t deserve to have a con job done with her name attached—but surely his little friend understood.

He had done his best to serve her when her family had still walked in these halls, now empty except for Poe and him, a kitchen and stable boy, respectively. For a moment, he could almost hear her laughter as he passed by the nursery, old toys laying scattered and broken, a fine layer of dust coating them. Kylo sighed, stroking his beard, his mind trying to get him back to the task at hand.

Poe trailed behind him in silence, waiting for his friend to come out of his reverie. From a job aspect, it was lucky for them that Kylo had known the princess personally, being able to supply little known details—and a strange little box. The former kitchen boy insisted that it was a music box, but neither of them had heard the tune, the little device locked since the night the palace was sacked. Still, he was sure that it would help them in some way—he just didn’t know how yet.

“Did you make anything today?” The question was almost absentminded, and Poe jumped, Kylo’s deep, dry voice almost unfamiliar after the small spell of silence.

“You know I did.” He rattled the coin purse he had stolen from the soldier early, and Kylo harrumphed at him as he strode into the former queen’s study, plopping down in the desk chair, fingers steepling as he thought. Poe leaned against the doorframe, waiting for the grand scheme, the excitement building as the two exchanged a glance, Kylo leaning forward.

“We’re going to rent a theater—stay with me on this—and find some actress dumb enough to play the part. If she looks like the princess, even better.” He reached for the music box from its perch on the desk, tracing it with his fingers as he continued. “We’ll buy three tickets to Paris, teach her what she needs to know on the way. The old man will probably be too overjoyed to even care that we found him an imposter, we get the money and we never return to this god forsaken country.”

Poe chuckled, sitting now, leveling a look at his partner. “And I suppose you want me to go out and book the theater tonight?” The swarthy man groaned a bit when his friend flashed a smile at him, getting up and shrugging on his coat again. “The things I do for money.”

“It’s our biggest con, Poe. After this one, we’ll never have to work again.” Kylo heard Poe’s sardonic snort, and then his heavy footsteps on the stairs, trekking away. He’d be back later, and until then, Kylo would just wait, leaning back in his chair, music box still in hand.

The regret pricked up again, and the man sighed, running a hand through his hair in agitation. He doubted the princess would hold this against him. For all he knew, she _was_ dead. The thought made him shudder, but he squared his shoulders. He was almost thirty years old—it was time to forget about the little girl who made him learn how to dance with her. It was time to forget those eyes, the ones that burned him in his dreams, the ones that implored him to come back and follow her, to stay with her, music box be damned.

Kylo sighed again, leaning his chin against his hand, looking around the room. The dead only wish the best for the living, right? Little Reyna wouldn’t resent him for making his life better. If she did…well, he would live with it. That’s all he could do now, after all.


	3. A Journey, A Sign

“Goodbye, Rey! Goodbye!” The younger children’s calls filtered down through the windows, drifting like snowflakes in the light winter wind. The nineteen-year-old girl below laughed, hand shooting up to wave back, trying to remain smiling though her heart broke a little.

Today, she was being turned out of the orphanage, finally too old to live there. Comrade Plutt, the constantly complaining caretaker, had informed her just the day before that she was to go into the next town over, to find some factory job, to take care of herself. Perhaps she was grateful for the push, having lived too long with Plutt and his lecherous eye, with the other teenaged girls and their constant bullying.  The only thing she would miss was the younger children, swallowing thickly as she waved again, looking at the many little faces crowding at each window, trying to get one last look.

Rey turned now, glancing up at the orphanage’s gate. When she came here, all those years ago, the gate reminded her of something, perhaps a story, perhaps a palace—something magical and far more grand than the little ramshackle iron fence with its lock. In that first week, she had learned to keep those thoughts quiet, one too many cuffs on the back of her head teaching her silence, even if there was a memory flickering about. She turned her hazel eyes to look past it, looking beyond to the world outside the orphanage, beyond the only life she could remember and own.

Taking a deep breath now and pulling her coat tighter, Rey approached the small gate, yanking it open, taking satisfaction in how the metal protested, its age showing as she kicked it shut behind her. With the fluid movement of her foot, a wave of cool liberation. She wasn’t sure why, thoughtfully trudging away, snow leaking into her well-worn shoes, the girl suddenly grateful for swiping those thick woolen socks from another girl’s laundry. It wasn’t until she reached the fork in the road did she realize what was so freeing about the distance between her and her onetime home.

There was no one beyond that gate who’d call her an idiot, a loon, a delusional little no account—no one to insult her or make her question her own memories, her dreams. She didn’t fight the simper tugging at her lips as she straightened her cap, her hair tucked up into it to keep the baggy headgear from slipping over her eyes. There was something joyful and delicious about being out of the orphanage’s grasp, no longer taking cues and directions from Plutt, no longer caring about what the other girls thought.

However, it was their directions that led her to this little fork in the road, to this small but crucial decision before her, the sign letting travelers know their options. Go to the right, and she would continue on to the next tiny village, which laid on the outskirts of a huge metal factory. Go to the left, and she would be on her way to the capital. Plutt had instructed her to go to the factory, but she resisted against it, fishing her necklace out of her shirt and glancing at it once more. _Together in Paris._

Rey considered the signs, absentmindedly rubbing the necklace’s pendant, the habit deeply ingrained in her now, a nervous tick from her first year in the orphanage. This fragile little chain and the piece of wrapping paper tucked in her pocket were her prized possessions, her only clues to her life before that night she was found alone in a St. Petersburg train station, her head aching, her family gone.

Common sense told her to go to the village, to live out her life as predicted, and so she turned, taking a step, then another before stopping and glancing at the other path. She knew, from reading and from local merchants she had bothered growing up, that in the capital, trains left for Paris every day. She had the money to buy a ticket, feeling the wad of cash tucked safely in her sock to confirm that. All that she needed was the will to do so.

Rey sighed, flopping down against one of the trees that separated the two paths. “Give me a sign!” She felt ridiculous, even chuckling at herself for her exclamation, especially after rejoicing at the lack of directions, the lack of control that others had. Now here she was, begging someone, be it a god above or a demon below, for help. The girl leaned back, shutting her eyes in exasperation at herself, shaking her head, her laughter dying.

“Um…miss?” She was on her feet in an instant, hands up in defense as she stared, dumbfounded at the dark man before her. His hands were up too, but not to strike—rather, it looked like he had been about to poke at her, to see if she was still alive, his eyes wide at her sudden movement. She relaxed, embarrassed but still defensive.

“Who are you?” Rey hadn’t heard him approach, hadn’t seen a traveler coming from either direction, so for this man to be nervously standing before her… he might as well have dropped out of the sky.

“I’m so sorry for scaring you.” The young man attempted to smile, despite his stammering, his hands shaking as he attempted to retrieve something from the satchel on his arm. “My name is Finn. I’m a doctor from the army, and…well, to be perfectly honest, I’m lost.”

He watched a dark eyebrow quirk, the girl’s face suspicious even as he offered her his papers to peruse, to confirm his story, her hand waving off his gesture. “How can you be lost?” Rey decided to spare the young man some dignity, leaving out their current location at the feet of a road sign.

“It’s…a bit of a long story.” He tried to hold her stare, grabbing her arm as she tried to turn away, scoffing. “Look, I just need help getting to the capital. If you can help me…”

“Why would you want to go to the capital? You obviously deserted your station.” She watched Finn wince but still attempt a smile. “Okay, that’s true—but it’s also easier to leave the country on a train instead of on foot.” Rey sighed, knowing that she had to give him that, letting him continue on. “It’s less suspicious if I’m travelling with someone else, like as an escort.”

Finn opened his mouth to say more, a bit dumbfounded as the girl sighed again, a smile cracking through. He was harmless—that much was apparent—and clueless. She decided to take this as her sign, extending her hand with a hesitant grin.

“Fine. I’ll go to the capital with you… on one condition.” Rey watched him tense up and then calm as she continued. “I’m looking for my family. If you help me, we can call this even. Deal?”

“Deal!” She chuckled at his enthusiasm, at how he instantly relaxed as they fell into step with each other. It would be an easy trip now, she decided, glancing over at the doctor as he chattered on, explaining how he had resisted orders, how his commanding officer had insisted that he shoot civilians instead of being the doctor he was. She appreciated that Finn seemed genuinely good, that he wasn’t pressing her for answers, that he seemed to trust her to explain as they got closer to the capital.

She did, of course, showing him the necklace, the piece of wrapping paper, his face solemn as she explained each item’s worth. “I guess you’re looking for your grandfather?” His finger traced out the slanting cursive on the paper, the writing smudged from the many passing years and the girl’s many studies of it. She nodded, and Finn could see that she was lost in her mind again, as if she was diving for memories, something to explain, something to help them later, but nothing was coming. He waited patiently, nodding at her as she looked back at him apprehensively, almost chagrinned. He understood. Rey was sure of that, his hand comforting as he patted her shoulder, urged her tired legs on.

 By the time the sun had begun to slip towards the horizon, Rey supposed that she could count Finn as a friend, one of her firsts. He laughed when she told him that, the fact making him puff with pride, his happy expression making her chuckle. They exchanged a smile now, cresting a hill, Rey whooping at the sight of the spiraling buildings before them. There was something familiar about the sight of them bathed in a sunburnt red, and she wondered if she had been here before, if she had once looked from this hill with her family.

“Rey, come on!” Finn was already at the bottom of the hill, and she rolled her eyes, calling out to him as she sprinted down to meet him. “Killjoy.” There was that easy smile again, and she supposed that she was grateful that he was her sign, and her help. Her heart squeezed and she felt her lips slope into a smile. “I’m coming, grandpa.” The words rested easy on her tongue, and for that, she was grateful.


	4. A Lie and a Relic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit of a fusion between the musical and the movie, with Hux's character being a mix of Bartok (movie) and Gleb (musical). 
> 
> Thank you for reading! I appreciate all the support, and the comments really make my day! I'll be working on chapter 5 tonight/tomorrow. :)

The ticket office was busy, the lines never thinning, never shortening, a crowd always ready to leave the country, always ready to escape. Finn stared at the rough wooden sign at the front of their line, trying to calm his nerves as Rey counted out her money. She sighed with relief at the leftover change, slipping the few crumpled bills and dull coins into her pocket, glancing over at her companion, frowning worriedly at how Finn jumped at every movement in their direction, as if he expected someone to come out of the shadows and drag him away. She patted his shoulder and grimaced as he flinched, eyes wide.

“Sorry, Rey.” He forced himself to relax, his shoulders slumping in his uniform jacket. He had been unable to get rid of the coat before the pair had come to the ticket office, forgetting about it until there were soldiers in every corner of the capital, keeping watch of every activity. Even now, there were soldiers behind every counter, and a few more along the wall, whispering with a man of higher rank. Finn could feel sweat prick up along the back of his neck, and he forced himself to avert his eyes and focus on Rey’s hand on his shoulder.

“Next!” The voice boomed towards them, and Rey started, suddenly aware of the space ahead of them in line, a gap waiting to be filled as the former head of the line vacated their spot, tickets in hand. Looking at the soldier staring out at them from his little window, she felt a wave of unease despite his kindly look, though she didn’t understand why. Nonetheless, she squared her shoulders and pulled Finn along behind her, forcing a wide grin.

“Two tickets to Paris, please!” The girl quickly laid her money on the counter, almost afraid that the man would think they didn’t have the money for it as she smoothed the bills, eyes never leaving his face. He smiled back at her, nodding at the cash. “Two tickets to Paris, _da._ Can I see your travel papers?”

“Travel papers?” Rey glanced at Finn, confused, noticing that her companion had tensed, his hands fisted at his sides. She turned back to the window, the soldier within concerned. “We…don’t have travel papers?”

“Not even your comrade?” The soldier looked contrite as Finn quickly looked through his pockets, coming up with nothing. With the final head shake, the soldier sighed, explaining, almost apologetically, “You must have travel papers. No travel papers, no tickets.”

“What if we gave you more money?” Rey stared at Finn as he blurted this out, coming to the window for the first time during this exchange. When the soldier hesitated, the doctor turned to his companion, gaze imploring. “Please, Rey. Let’s give him more money. We need these tickets.”

“Everything alright, Comrade Mitaka?” The question was quiet, the asker materializing besides the pair, Finn immediately recoiling, recognizing the man as the higher up. The soldier smiled nervously at the superior. “Nothing too serious, General. These lovely citizens seem to have forgotten their travel papers at home.”

For a moment, Rey was grateful for the small white lie until the general fixed his eye on them. He was at least ten years older than the both of them, his red hair neat and combed back, eyes piercing. Her heart sank as the gaze turned to Finn, interest pricking at his uniform.

“If you could step out of line…yes, this way, please.” The pair frantically glanced at each other, having no other option but to follow. He opened the door to a back office, soldiers bolting to attention as he passed.

“General Hux!” “Sir!” Despite the many salutations, the man remained focused, escorting the two to an empty room, a table and a few chairs. Rey looked at Finn for explanation, stomach dropping as he mouthed the word, “Interrogation,” before turning his attention back to the general, waiting for a command to sit, sinking into the offered chairs when it was issued.

“So you forgot your travel papers, _da?”_ Her gaze hard, Rey nodded, holding her tongue lest she say too much. The man—Hux, she corrected herself—forced a smile at the pair, seating himself now, leaning forward across the table.

“And you, soldier? You forgot your travel papers?” He watched the young man’s dark skin pale as he cleared his throat. “Yes, sir. I was called from the front very quickly, and did not have time to pack my papers.”

“Oh, you were called from the front! You didn’t…what is the word… _desert_?” Finn opened his mouth to answer, sweat pricking the back of his neck again as he struggled to find some words to string together into a lie. Rey’s cool voice stopped him, her words an answer in his place.

“ _Da,_ he was called from the front by my grandfather.” She huffed haughtily, leveling a gaze at Hux as she forced a pout. “My grandfather worries too much—he doesn’t want me travelling to Paris on my own.” She dropped her voice, whispering loudly, as if it was a secret, a scandal waiting to happen: “He tells me, ‘Rey, you’re too pretty to behave! I need you to be a good girl still when you get to France. Stay with your escort—he’ll keep you out of trouble!’”

Finn hoped that his jaw wasn’t on the floor, feeling his mouth slack with the grand story Rey was telling, despite the rags she wore, her coat and hat too large, obviously hand-me-downs, obviously the best that she could find in her orphanage. Yet here she was, claiming to practically be the granddaughter to an aristocrat, her gaze harsh, as if challenging the two men to say otherwise.

 The general merely chuckled at her, circling the table, and forcing the girl to look at him, his hand under her jaw. She tried not to flinch as he now stroked her cheek, biting her tongue, tasting her own blood from the force of it as Hux chuckled again.

“You are a very pretty one—I can see why your grandfather worries. But tell me, little miss—why does he let you wear these rags for clothes? If he can afford a soldier to escort you, surely he can afford…” He stopped short as he peered into her eyes, the hazel hue snapping him back to a night, ten years before. He had seen these eyes before, in portraits, in the faces of a family that he helped overthrow and murder.

She had the Kenobi eyes.

He promptly let go of her chin, forcing himself to remain calm as he returned to his side of the table, listening to her babble her lie: “He doesn’t know I wear rags—he thinks I’m still with my governess. It’s any wonder that this doctor found me at all…”

“Very well. You are free to go.” The girl and the doctor froze, eyes cautious as Hux waved them off, deep in thought. “One of my men will show you the way out.” They bolted up, and Rey had just nearly cleared the room when the general cleared his throat.

“Little miss…” He looked at her now, still studying her, almost as if to try to disprove himself. “Be careful. You have a dangerous face.” He wished that she didn’t smile at him now, his heart beginning to pound as the door shut behind her.

“Finn, what are we going to do now?” Rey kept her voice low, standing now at the back of the main ticket office, the jealousy in her eyes fierce and sad. He rubbed the back of his neck, grimacing all the while.

“I don’t know what we _can_ do. That was too close of a call. We may not be so lucky next time.” She felt herself pout, lip trembling. She would walk to Paris, if she had to—but not without Finn. They had come too far together to go their separate ways now. They both let out a sigh, turning to go, to wander, to regroup and figure out a new solution.

“Wait, miss!” The soldier from earlier was approaching them now, and Rey resisted her urge to run, fixing a smile as the young man hurriedly joined them. “Your money… you forgot it at my counter earlier!”

“Oh, thank you…” Rey glanced down at his hands as he passed the bills back. There was a piece of paper among them, and she raised a slender eyebrow at him, his nod discrete but serious. He straightened now and grinned at them. “Well, off you go! Happy travels!”

Finn waited until they were down the street a bit farther, into the marketplace, the ticket office out of view, before he pounced. “What did he give you? A love note?” He was trying to tease, trying to calm himself, but Rey still glared at him for a moment, unfolding the page, eyes flicking past each word.

_Go find Kylo at the old palace. He can get you the papers you need._

A smile grew between the two as she passed the note to him, glancing about for a friendly face, someone willing to give them directions, to help send them off on their new adventure. “We’re going to the palace,” Rey explained to the friendly butcher woman in the market, grinning at the detailed directions, the well wishes as the girl repeated her story, the one she had made up on the spot.

Today, her life would change. She knew that much as Finn fell back into step with her, their tracks deep in the snow packed street.

 

Tucked away in his office, Hux considered the glass on his desk. It was a relic, the fluted glass glowing a sickly bright green as spirits swirled within. He shuddered, remembering what his superior had told him before putting the gun in his mouth, repeating what had been told to him by several higher ranked men.

“This was General Snoke’s, the only thing that we could find of him after the coup. Someone has to watch it. Someone has to make sure that the curse our leader made remains fulfilled.” Hux shook his head, remembering how his superior had come into position of the damned glass vial to begin with. So many men, guilty or fearful of punishment, had taken their lives. And now, he had the power, the curse in hand.

There was still a living Kenobi. He had seen her this afternoon, her eyes burning his soul now. Hesitantly, the general picked up the relic, slipping it into his bag, knowing what he must do.

Leader Snoke must finish what he started. The general let a deep breath go, steeling himself as he began his trek, his footprints becoming unnoticed in the snow. He had to go to the river. He had to find the leader, and bring him back. He was too afraid of what would become of him if he didn’t. His thoughts considered the princess again, her cheeky smile lancing him with a heat he was unsure of, a hint of sympathy leaving a taste in his mouth.

 _Run, little miss. Run as far as you can. Someone isn’t done with you._   


	5. Memorized Recognition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More yet to come with this one-- thanks to the election, I was an anxious mess, but on the bright side, here's an extra long chapter. Stay safe, everyone.

“Well, that was a fucking disaster.” Kylo muttered darkly as he yanked on his coat, his partner sighing as he crossed out the last name. It had been a futile search, a fact that the men had to acknowledge as they stretched, limbs stiff from their hard seats. The two had sat for half the day, seeing actresses who insisted that they looked exactly like the lost princess.

A majority of them didn’t, and Poe leaned back now, glancing over at Kylo and realizing that when there was a rare one who _did_ somewhat resemble the royal, Kylo had been the one to shoot them down, citing some tiny detail, some insane reason why she wouldn’t work. There was no room for argument, the pale man waving the actress off, the poor women sometimes breaking down into tears.

Their tears didn’t matter to the plan’s mastermind. The shorter man trailed behind his partner as they straightened up the theater, the former kitchen boy harshly blowing out stage lights as the stable boy swept, wondering all the while. So many reasons for the many rejections, and Poe’s mind skipped across the many possibilities as the two ventured into the night, passing windows, passing happy families, content lovers. He wondered for a moment if Kylo ever looked in those windows and put himself in their shoes—the father as he smiled at his wife and children; the mind of the man with his beloved, nuzzling her neck as she scolded and laughed. Surely he had, at some point, and as they walked, the one thought intertwined with the other, a frown now tugging at the swarthy man’s face.

The palace’s door had barely shut behind them when Kylo heard his partner’s question, fist automatically clenching at the assumption, forcing a bitter laugh as the answer: “You loved the princess, didn’t you?”

The dark chuckle didn’t deter Poe, who simply pursed his lips and followed his friend up the stairs, to the office, venturing again. “It’s a goddamn simple question, Ren. Did you or did you not love the princess?” They both knew that the questioned man would dance around it, maybe citing past flings, girls who weren’t kept around very long, as a negative to the question. But it was a fair question, a fact that Kylo had to acknowledge, his exasperation escaping through flared nostrils as he struggled to take a deep breath.

“As a servant loves his mistress, yes. She was too young to be loved any other way, Poe.” Their eyes met, and there was exhaustion sitting behind his brown irises. He couldn’t say that there wasn’t a day that went by without him waking up to her screaming in his dreams.

It had been ten years since he had last seen her. Ten years since she had forced him to talk with her, often stumbling into the kitchen late at night for a snack to find him alone, scrubbing at one of the many pots that the other kitchen boys had left to him, citing his awkward height, his large ears.

_“Your ears aren’t big. Not like Prince Rupert’s.” She gagged, throwing her hands to frame her ears, as if to mimic the poor prince’s ears, and Kylo snorted, surprised that this little girl wasn’t stuck up, wasn’t deluded into thinking that her possible fiancé was perfect, like the other princesses talked when they whisked by each morning._

She had sat with him, telling him about her sisters, her busy mother, how her grandfather was someday going to take her away and she wouldn’t have to be princess and wear pinching shoes and dance with weird boys.

_“Aren’t I a weird boy?” Her face had puckered at his question, and he laughed at how offended she was, hazel eyes looking up at him, her feet on top of his, in the midst of an innocent waltz. She considered his question, her shaking head silencing his chuckling. “No. You’re nice, Kylo. A lot of boys aren’t—and it makes them weird._

A decade had passed, and she hadn’t come back. For the first year, he had waited and agonized, hoping that there would be some news from Paris, scanning the newspapers every week, trading food for possible information even when the government shut down the journalists, eventually trading contraband and forgeries to get enough money to keep searching.

He had gotten into this risky life as a conman trying to secure a way to soothe his fears, and all he found for his trouble was lonely nights spent trying to open her jewelry box, wondering what tune it played, if it was the one that she hummed while forcing him to dance, her tiny feet in danger of being trampled by his large ones. Kylo glanced up now at his partner, realizing that Poe was talking, mouth moving slowly, as if he was measuring out the words with coffee spoons.

“I’m not arguing that, and while I know you’re just trying to focus on the job…” The job. Right—this is why he was searching for her, except he wasn’t really. Kylo forced himself to focus back on Poe’s words, the man opposite from him sighing and scratching the back of his head as he searched for words. “…but you rejected every girl who possibly could have done the job. You knew the princess best, sure—but I’m not trying to bring the princess back to life. You have to stop trying. It won’t make you happy.”

“As if a shitload of money will?” Kylo watched Poe flinch at that and for a moment he felt guilty. It had been him that suggested the plan, and in the moment, that was all he was focused on—the money. But then sitting there in the theater, watching girls parade around, trying to be her, to sound and look and act like her…something in him broke, screamed at him to stop, and he had listened.

“It doesn’t matter, Poe. She’s probably dead. We’ll find a girl—just not here.” With that, he turned and retreated, the study’s door settling heavy into its frame. The music box sat on the desk, proud and silent, and for a moment, Kylo considered taking it into his palm and crushing it or chucking it through the window pane into the dark courtyard below.

He was not the gentle kitchen boy any longer, his frame sinewy, hair long to hide his ears, jaw sharp and covered with coarse hair. The princess, if she was alive, wouldn’t be able to recognize him now.  He hesitated, finger brushing over the golden lid, over the prettily etched words on the lid. _Forever in Paris._

Kylo turned away, and considered the wall, forcing his head free of thoughts. Just for a minute—he deserved that much. His eyes closed, and he ignored the crash happening somewhere in the palace, only bringing himself to his feet with an annoyed sigh at the pounding on the door, Poe’s voice hitting him through the silence. “We’ve got company!”

* * *

 

“Rey, this doesn’t look safe at all.” The orphan rolled her eyes before considering the haphazardly boarded door again, fingers breezing over the wood, trying to find a weakness. Finn tensed as she chuckled, backing away from the door and running at it, squared shoulder aimed at an apparent weak spot. His mouth fell as she pulled away, grinning cheekily at the sizable hole she had made.

“Hand me that pole, will you?” The doctor wordlessly passed her the metal tube, watching her stab around the hole she made, the boards splintering and falling away with each hit. “Are you going to sit there, or are you going to help?”

Rey’s words were teasing, her smile widening as he snarked back. “Help with what, you little juggernaut?” His hand flapped about, gesturing at the newly made doorway as she stepped back, the two cackling despite themselves as they slipped through.

Despite the neglect and abuse that the great building had suffered, Rey felt herself go silent with wonder, her hand reaching out and stroking the wallpaper remnants, marveling at the richness it must have been. Finn stood back, watching the girl explore, heart a bit heavy as he wondered what the orphanage had been like. When he looked around, he saw broken things—shattered china, ripped paintings, charred walls.

When she looked, she saw beautiful white porcelain that she could put back together, a fascinating picture of history that perhaps she could glue and mend, a layer of soot the merely be wiped off to reveal some rich blue or red that had her cooing in delight.

No, Finn couldn’t imagine what the orphanage was like for Rey to admire such broken things, but he could guess. He trailed behind her through the hall, letting her race ahead. Her gasp echoed back to him, as did her joyous exclamation.

“Finn! The ballroom! It’s like a fairytale!” The girl scampered down the steps, Finn following her with an indulgent smile. Perhaps she had forgotten about Paris, for the moment, but that was alright, the doctor watching her twirl, her shoes making pleasant clicks on the floor, her movements dragging dirt away, a shine coming forth.

Rey glanced down at the floor with its gold tinge, a melody coming into her head, flowing into her throat as she hummed to herself now. Her feet moved quickly into familiar steps—a waltz. She had never waltzed before, and yet here she was, moving in time to her humming, movements graceful and swooping. She twirled past Finn, pulling him along with a laugh, leading him in this dance, oblivious to his stunned face, her gaze focused over his shoulder, her eyes fluttering shut with a happy thought.

In her mind, her ragged dress and coat were made from silk and ermine. Her shoes didn’t have holes—rather, they were heels that clicked and whisked pleasantly against the floor. In her mind, she wasn’t dancing alone, other pairs swirling past her. There were three girls who looked like her who broke away from their partners, their painted lips curling into smiles, their hands reaching out to stroke her hair, murmur compliments, call her baby sister. Then a taller woman and a man, both beautiful and unworldly, with crowns…in her head, Rey knew that there would be a bow, a curtsey, but the older woman would pull her up, embrace her with a smile, the man kissing her hair.

Her brow furrowed now, confused as the family drifted away from her, another figure approaching. He was tall, dark hair swooping over his eyes but not long enough to cover his ears, which were large and blushing red. The boy was in simple clothes, cleaner than the rags that she was wearing, but still lower than the royals who trailed past her now, beckoning her to follow. He looked at her, betrayed as she drifted about the room with in her friend’s arms, and she wanted to explain herself, but he raised a hand, lips set in a firm resigned line, as if he understood, as if he wouldn’t take it personally. He stalked away, and something inside screamed at her to follow, and suddenly she was running…

But only because Finn was tugging her along. Rey snapped from her reverie, suddenly aware of the loud shouts directed their way, the pounding footsteps drawing closer as she now sprinted up the stairs, dropping her companion’s hand, pausing for a second before a large portrait, glancing one way, and then the other, trying to remember how they had entered the room. The yelling was deafening, and conflicting, the two men racing after them seeming to be in a disagreement of how to handle the trespassers.

“Wait! Stop!”  “Get out of here! JUST GO!”

Rey found herself frozen, glancing over her shoulder, her mind clicking something into place, but she wasn’t sure. She turned, squaring her shoulders and setting her jaw as she took a step, then another, descending the stairs. Finn felt his jaw lowering once again from surprise, watching the two men, their pursuers, suddenly stop short, shock apparent as the girl calmly approached them.

Her gaze travelled back and forth between the two, taking stock, trying to figure out which one was Kylo. The shorter man smiled uneasily at her, his tan face pinking a bit as she smiled back, watching him run a hand through his dark hair. The other man towered over her, seeming not to focus on her face, intent on glaring at the air over her head.

Poe watched the girl’s brow furrow as she looked over Kylo, as if she recognized him, as if she was trying to place him in her mind. He let his eyes wander up the stairs, curious about her companion—but his gaze stopped on the large portrait at the stairs’ landing. The royal family stared serenely back at him, and he glanced at the girl, jaw slackening as he stepped back and compared.

Queen Kira’s nose and cheekbones. Her husband’s brow and chin. The splatter of freckles of the older sisters. Princess Reyna’s hazel eyes blinked at him from this little stranger’s face, the perfect translation from age nine to nineteen.

“Kylo…do you see what I see?” Poe thought he whispered it, but no, the girl’s eyes immediately fastening themselves onto his partner. “You’re Kylo!” Her crow was triumphant, and she waved to her friend, excitement and relief growing between the two. “We need to talk to you about paperwork…”

Poe watched Kylo’s face, waited for a softening, a realization, but the man’s gaze remained hard. He still hadn’t looked at the girl, and he turned now, stalking away. “Come back tomorrow!” His partner didn’t know what had been louder—the door slamming behind him, or the thunder in his voice. Still, he winced, turning to the girl—the princess, he corrected himself—apologetic as he smiled at the two before him.

“Ignore him. He’s usually a lot easier to deal with.” He stuck out a hand, pleasantly surprised as the dark young man at the princess’s side gladly shook it, hand lingering a bit longer than a typical handshake…not that he minded.

“I’m Finn, and this is Rey. We…ah…we need travel papers.” The man looked embarrassed almost, brushing off dust from his jacket, Poe recognizing as army gear. “We’re going to Paris, to find her family and…” Finn stuttered to a stop as Rey ignored the explanation, sidestepping the two, her eyes rooted on the door the other man had exited out of.

The doctor attempted to follow, but Poe caught him by the shoulder as he began to move past, shrugging. “Let her go. Looks like Kylo is about to be put in his place.” They shared an uneasy smile as they watched her shrinking form.


	6. Like Always

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longer chapter for you lovelies. Let me know what you think!

Kylo realized that he had acted rashly, his feet thudding against the floor as he raced past the many portraits, trying to get her face out of his head. He could hear footsteps behind him, far off but coming, and he pushed himself faster. If he could make it to the study, he reasoned, he would be safe from her eyes. He could shut the princess and the world out.

He thought he saw her in the beggar girl who had come to them, her firm look reminding him of the princess when displeased: lips pressed thinly, eyebrow quirked. She had looked at him as if she recognized him, and so he had avoided looking at her for more than a second at a time. He’d catch a glimmer of hazel eyes, the shimmer of light brown hair, with every glance, and common sense and nostalgia screamed at him in tandem.

Only the stairs separated him from the study, and he took them two at a time now, chant forming with every one: She couldn’t be Reyna. She couldn’t be.

“Wait!” Her voice rang out; his hand just inches from the door handle. Kylo let himself turn, forcing his face to turn stony as the girl stopped before him, glare fierce. She was panting for breath and he tried to ignore how her skin flushed prettily, focusing instead on her coat as she shrugged it off, the heavy green material slumping to the floor.

“How dare you?” He stared at her blankly, trying not to focus on her face, looking instead at her shoes, the mangled leather worn to holes. Up and up his gaze crept, taking another detail in at a time—the fraying gray tights under her dress that could be red, could be brown, age and dirt fusing the two colors in the ruddy dress. There was a flicker of gold around her neck, and Kylo gulped, eyes straining to make out the jewelry.

Apparently he leaned too close, his gaze perhaps too low to be actually aimed at her neck, his cheek suddenly stinging, the girl’s hand leaving a flaming red mark across it. Both were instantly tensed—the girl looked stricken, wincing at her blow, watching his face.

Their eyes slowly met, and Kylo allowed himself to look fully in her face now. The face of the princess looked back at him, her visage looking as his memory dictated, the many years separating memory from reality realizing themselves in her limbs, in her cheekbones. Her teeth were worrying over her lower lip now, a nervous simper peering out at him from her face. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt a chuckle bubble up from his throat. It was an unpracticed sound—really, he couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed, some night, long ago, over suds and fancy footwork.

“I’m sorry...” Rey let the apology slip out as she watched the young man rub his jaw, still chuckling as he looked at her. His brown eyes swirled with skepticism and yet, kindness. There was a warmth in her stomach, as if she was settled back in her favorite chair, drinking her favorite hot chocolate—his eyes were something familiar in this odd city, but she pushed it aside.

“No, no. I was the rude one. I’m sorry.” Kylo found himself smirking as she flared back to life, reminded of her fury. “Yes, you were! Why did you run?” She scowled as he shrugged, motioning her to follow as he nudged the study’s door open.

“Perhaps because it’s after business hours. We’re closed for the night.” He slumped into his desk chair, feet instantly being propped up on the desk, leaning back, considering her. Rey ignored the fact that there was no chair to be offered, leaning on the desk, almost hissing.

“I doubt that a conman would ever turn away a paying customer.” His grin was wide as she snapped, his shrug swooping his arms out. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m not a conman—I’m an artist.” He found himself enjoying her huffing, his movements exaggerating, teasing her, even sticking his tongue out for good measure. Any other girl would be enjoying the teasing, maybe even escalating the exchange into light flirting, and he found himself biting back a grin as she scoffed, all business.

“Oh, of course.” Her words had a heavy lilt to accompany her eye roll nicely. “How could I not recognize the talent of a man who forges travel papers? I am in the presence of a modern Da Vinci.” This felt like an old game to her, watching his eyes crinkle with his grin as his eyes remained fastened to her. Rey saw his mouth opening, and she cut in, weary of the jokes and barbs.

“Look, I didn’t come here for your comedy act. I need to get to Paris—well, I need travel papers to get to Paris.” He bound up from his seat at this point, and a question flickered in her head, curious for the movement’s motive, but shrugged it aside. “I had a bit of trouble at the ticket office, and well, they say that you’re the guy to see, and… _what_ are you _doing_?”

He was circling her, his eyes roving up and down her frame, and she sighed exasperated at him, flicking her hands at him, as if that would shoo him off. “What, were you a vulture in another life?”

Kylo laughed at her face, fluster tinging her cheeks scarlet again, her lips twitching with annoyance, eyebrows almost touching her hair. “Interesting, interesting. So…Paris?” Just as quickly as he had been next to her, he was in his seat again, and Rey blinked at him, stunned as he yanked a drawer open, retrieving a sheave of papers, hands breezing through.

“…Yes. Paris. My friend and I are going—he promised to help me find my family.”

“Oh, he’s your friend.” He seemed almost relieved at this information, shoulders relaxing as he glanced at her again, and she quirked an eyebrow at him. “It’s a bit more work to put together a married couple’s travel documents.” His explanation was flat, and she felt herself blush, scolding herself for trying to find a different meaning in his relief.

She was merely passing through—she had no time to be intrigued, to consider a relationship with anyone, let alone a conman. Even still, she felt a jealous flame flicker, licking at her patience as she reached, hand closing around a jewelry box on his desk.

“Are you a husband? Your wife has pretty things, if so.” Kylo didn’t expect himself to burst out laughing, but the assumption was ludicrous, the girl blinking with confusion as she held the music box. He was grateful for the laughter, flooding in and washing out the small sense of dread and awe that was forming in his stomach, seeing her holding the box.

“It’s a long story…What was your name, again?” He tried not to flinch with her answer, her gaze casually resting on him, almost coy as her fingers skimmed the music box. “Rey. My name is Rey.”

“So May…”

“It’s Rey.”  Her eyes were back on him again, and he wondered if he intentionally messed up her name, smirking at her as he “tried” again: “Okay, Shay.”

“Rah-ayyyy.” She felt like an imbecile, sounding out her name as if she was the idiot, not him, eyes narrowing at him as he snorted. “Don’t patronize me.” He lifted his hands as if in surrender, snickering still. “So why Paris?”

“Well, this may sound crazy, but my only clue to where my family is Paris. It’s on my necklace…” She wasn’t sure why she offered it to him to look at—anyone else, even Finn, she would only lean forward, let them look at it from around her neck. That way, if someone tried to steal the pretty little gold chain, she’d just have to reach out to catch them. With him though, she found herself unclasping the necklace, offering it up for him to look, his fingers gentle as he took it.

She saw his eyes glance at the music box in her hand, and Rey wondered what was so special about it, fingers still absentmindedly tracing the lid. Kylo felt his breath leave his lungs in a _whoosh,_ stomach plummeting sharply and dancing as his eyes slid over the necklace’s inscription. He didn’t have to read it. He knew that they matched.

 _She’s not the princess—can’t be. Probably some beggar girl who wrestled some gold away from a dead girl’s body._ His doubt allowed this thought to lick itself into a flame, his indifference ultimately squelching it as he forced an easy smile at her, pulling himself to his feet.

“Funny you should mention Paris. Poe—my business partner—and I were planning on going ourselves.” In a moment, he had pulled the tickets from his shirt pocket, hand fluttering teasingly out of reach of the curious teenager, tutting at her before pocketing them again.

“Well, we were supposed to, but there’s one little detail.” Rey’s breath hitched in her throat as she felt his hand brush the back of her neck, fastening her jewelry securely back around the owner. She tried to focus only on his words, waiting for this strange heat in her chest to pass as he stepped on by, wondering if he noticed it too.

Touching her, however fleetingly, had jolted him, and Kylo hoped that his eyes hadn’t darkened with any sort of interest, be it lust or anything else. “What little detail?” Her voice was soft, her eyes wide and lazily watching him, as if she was waiting for him to pounce. He was tempted, wondering if she’d resist him, wondering if he cared if she was a beggar girl and perhaps not the princess after all. There were too many things pointing to the opposite, and he knew that, but as he glanced at her lips, he wondered if the taste of her would help him forget that awful last night.

Rey watched him lean forward, but the door crashing open had him jerking back, the two flushing as their companions came bursting in. Finn was by her side in seconds, and Kylo tried to choke the jealousy in his chest as the young man practically danced around her. “Rey! Rey, you’re not going to believe it—I almost don’t believe it still, but…tell her, Poe.”

Kylo knew that his partner was intentionally ignoring him and his glare, and he wondered if he had been eavesdropping the entire time as Poe clasped the girl’s hands, almost reverently. “You, my dear, look exactly like the lost princess.”

“Excuse me?” Her eyes were on him again, as if for explanation, and the taller conman groaned, wishing that the approach had been better, forcing himself to explain. “That little detail…Poe and I were supposed to be escorting a lost princess to Paris. For her grandfather’s sake.” He bit his tongue, keeping the bit about the reward money to himself, knowing that was the only thing keeping him rooted on business as he watched the girl’s eyes widen with interest.

“Her grandfather…?” She pulled a scrap of paper from her sleeve, glancing down at it, then her necklace again, eyes searching Poe’s face as Finn stood beside him, practically beaming. “Do you think that he’s my grandfather? That I’m the lost…” She lost the courage to finish the sentence, Poe graciously swooping in to assure her.

“I’m sure of it. Right, Kylo?” Poe’s eyes left no room for argument, almost challenging him to say something in disagreement. He found himself shrugging, attempting nonchalance. “Of course, it’s up to you—wouldn’t want to waste your time with an old man who may just be lonely as hell.”

“Well, what’d be the harm of it, right?” She was nervous, her hands fluttering to her pockets, then to smoothing her dress, and Kylo just wanted to hold her hands, keep them rooted, keep her calm. “We’ll go to Paris, and if we’re wrong, it was just an honest mistake, right?”

“Right!” Poe crowed, triumphant and pleased, watching Kylo sigh quietly, starting to shoo his companions out of the study. “I suppose that settles it. We’ll leave in the morning. I’ll get started on those travel papers.”

“Thank you.” Her voice was quiet, and when he looked up, eyes meeting, her gentle smile from his memory shined at him. She seemed to be hesitating, as if she had more to say, as if she had forgotten something, brow furrowed.

“Kylo. My name is Kylo.” He didn’t know if that would help, if she would snap at him playfully for his unhelpfulness, but her brow smoothed and she nodded, smile returning. “Thank you, Kylo.” With that, she turned, dutifully following Finn out as he chattered at her. “Poe showed me where we can sleep tonight, but before we get there…if you thought the ballroom was cool, wait until you see the kitchen!” Her laughter echoed, and the former kitchen boy nearly slammed the door to muffle the sound.

“Lucky break, huh?” Poe knew that his partner wouldn’t meet his eyes, much less respond, his silence pensive, eyes considering the desktop warily. He sighed, patting the taller man’s shoulder as he walked past. “Who knows. Maybe she’s your princess.”

“It doesn’t matter if she is. We have a job to do.” Kylo saw the swarthy man’s surprised blink, and he shrugged, suddenly exhausted. “We get the money and get out. Like always.”

“Like always.” He echoed the words, watching the door close in his face, eyes tracing the etching as a smile tugged sardonically at his mouth. Poe knew that this would be a long, tired journey—but if it returned the princess to reality, no longer a memory to torture his dear friend’s life, it would be worth as much as the money. Right?

Pondering that question, Poe turned and let himself slump away, forcing a pep in his step as he heard his guests’ exuberant shouts of wonder. It had been a while since the palace was lively. He had missed this—and he knew that Kylo did too.

That Kylo missed it more, trying to bring music back to the air, tinkering with the music box in the study. Like always.


	7. Waking Nightmare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the kind comments! I really appreciate each and every one, and I am so glad that so many of you love the AU! I hope that I can keep writing to your expectations!
> 
> A bit of a different perspective this chapter, but we're starting to shift into the bigger plot...Let me know what you think/what you would like to see! Thank you all again!

The night air bit at Hux’s neck, the military man sinking down into his coat with a shudder. The sky had darkened considerably since he left the safety of his office, the relic burning brighter with every step on his journey, as if to make up for it.

He didn’t like what he was about to do, refusing to look at the glass, his stomach clenching with nerves. The memory of ten years ago stretched out before him, beckoning him closer now that he was at the river’s edge, the bridge still a far way off. It had been a long time since he had purposefully come here.

Ten years ago, he was only a private, a soldier who was easily swayed to treason but survived because he had known the odds, had picked the winning team. He no longer took pride in that, mind drifting back to the girl in the ticket office earlier, his blood quickening with his heartbeat. Titillation had lanced his heart upon first glance, and her Kenobi eyes did nothing to quell that wonder, that attraction—but it did make his sense of duty stutter and falter.

The dark water lapped at the shore, despite the heavy ice encasing it, the river wild, as if anticipating what was to come. Hux reluctantly came to a stop, eyes searching the icy horizon, attempting to remember where his late commander had pulled the relic from the ice, the body of General Snoke having sunk, heart heavy with hate. He couldn’t remember, his mind asking him to remember other things, asking him if he remembered his night at the palace as well as he should.

He had been young then, impressionable, the bodies on in the ballroom looking odd and out of place on the glittering palace floor, the other soldiers’ shoes smeared with blood even if they stepped over the corpses, even if they were careful. In his mind’s eye, Hux walked among them again, just one of many comrades naively wondering if the royals had escaped, maybe even hoping for it, looking at the sallow face of the oldest princess, the wide frozen eyes of the other two princesses, their forms folding into the other, as if to protect each other, even in death.

 He thought that he had seen the littlest princess run off, her companion a tall and lanky boy with black hair, but now, as his rifle’s butt met the companion’s head, as he watched the boy—his age, no older, maybe younger—stumble from the blow, he brushed it off, comforted himself in knowing that there were no loose ends, that her body was probably buried under one of the many others littered across the room.

Hux shuddered now, the late queen’s face suddenly looking up at him from the ice, fury and blood flecking her features, her lips forming a scowl, though her eyes were fearful. He remembered that she had stared up at him, eyes lingering on his gun before she bared her teeth at him with a growl. “If you touch my daughters—if you so much as aim at them— _I will haunt your heart._ ” The general was used to this vision, the royal mother’s face haunting his dreams every so often, no matter how he comforted himself, reminding himself that she was dead, that his comrade had the sense to silence her with his rifle after she had hissed this—but he knew that it was futile.

After all, of the things he could have looted, he had been compelled to carry a portrait of the princesses away from the smoldering palace, the picture usually face down in his desk drawer, the eyes burning his soul too much. And then today… the queen’s curse had seemed to manifest in the face of the beggar girl, the little liar’s eyes that same green as that dead woman from all those years ago.

For that reason, he knew that he must wake that damn sorcerer up. The general cursed at himself, wondering if his success was worth it, if he had really been on the right side of history, wondering if he was just one step away from madness, from lifting his hand against himself, like the line of admirable men who had proceeded him in this posting. And yet…he wondered if this would give him what he wanted, which in this moment, was the girl. His body called for her, heart screaming for her, screaming for the thirst to be quenched, and he knew, as had been repeated to him many times, that with power came the heart’s desires.

Snoke had all the power he needed—he just needed to wake him up.

His movement was swift, his hand withdrawing the demonic vial from his bag, his arm fluid and graceful as he cast it across the ice. He hoped that he was just a madman, gaze following the glass skittering across the river’s smooth pane. If nothing came of this, he’d be satisfied—he would never see the girl again, would not be afflicted by her eyes during his waking hours—only during sleep. The vial had slowed in its journey across the ice, skittering to a stop, and he held his breath, ignoring how the streetlights seemed to dim now, the moonlight even darkening for a moment as if to hide the unholy activities from a casual passerby, though it was late and the streets quiet.

For a moment, there was nothing, and Hux allowed himself a dose of relief—but he didn’t turn away. He knew better than that, hearing the ice crackle, the water shift and splash, becoming wild despite nature’s barrier. When the hand plunged up, into the air, grasping at the ice, blindly searching for the relic, the general did not flinch with surprise—he recoiled with horror, realizing that the arm was a bare smooth bone, the hard white glinting in the moonlight.

He bit his tongue, silencing himself, struggling to breathe as bony fingers finally wrapped themselves around the glass, skin bubbling up and melting itself around it, stretching and growing, encasing the skeleton emerging from the water, a black cloak, heavy with water and age, draped around him.

General Snoke would never look as he had before, the somewhat handsome face from a decade ago erased by the icy hand of Death. Hux realized this as he watched the resurrection, noting the twisted skin, how it puckered and grayed at certain points, as if his wrinkles were seams, as if Lucifer cared not for the doll he was re-stitching. It did not take the sorcerer long to cross the ice, to stand before the military man, glare escaping iris-less eyes.

“Where is Palpatine?” Hux flinched at the question, the name of his dead mentor jolting him, but Snoke waved his attempt at an answer off, as if a sidelong glance told him all he needed to know. The young man relaxed and then tensed again, terror icing his joints. The sorcerer could see into his mind, the realization confirmed with a terse smile.

“You are a smart one, general. I can see why you were trusted with waking me.” The praise was halfhearted, Snoke’s eyes narrowing to slits as he appraised the former private, searching his thoughts. The man before him did nothing to hide them; if anything, he welcomed the inspection of his mind, eyebrow gently quirking at the sorcerer, as if to ask him to hurry up, to search his most recent memories. It didn’t take much digging to reach that point, the resurrected man combing through the mind, physically shrinking back with a hiss now. In a moment, his hand was on Hux’s neck, grip tight and unrelenting, and if Hux had not been quick, it would have been deadly, the redhead’s hand serving as an obstruction.

“You fool! You let her get away—you had the chance to kill her and _you did nothing!_ ” He scowled as he released the man roughly, watching him reel back, nearly falling from the force. Snoke considered him again, noting how the man didn’t attempt to fight back, that he merely straightened, not acknowledging the abuse.

“Sir, I’m sure you know why I did nothing.” The words were calmer than imagined, and Hux wondered how he was able to remain composed, his reflexes screaming to get even, to avenge himself, to shove the recently resurrected leader back into the river from whence he came. The military man watched the wrinkled eyebrow raise, the black eyes squint at him, as if to review his thoughts, and he winced, the sensation uncomfortable, but nothing he couldn’t get used to.

“I want the girl—and you will give her to me.” Snoke chuckled at the boldness, almost admiring in his wariness of the man. Armitage Hux seemed to be an interesting helper already, the former general remembering how none of his advisers or co-conspirators would have dared to make demands of him, and yet, it was the first thing on the young man’s mind.

 “You think that I can do that for you?” The question was neutral, not a challenge. Hux blinked in confusion, not expecting simple curiosity to his request, having prepared himself for possible violence.

“You have the power to get whatever you want—including a stay of death for the last Kenobi. You can have her soul when she dies—I want her in this life, though. And you will grant me that as payment for my services. You have no choice—you need me too much.” Hux bit back his smirk, watching the realization dawn on the holy man, scowl twisting Snoke’s face all the more. He turned away with a scoff, spitting with disgust.

“Take her then, general. Find her, trap her, get her alone in whatever way you must…you may have her after you bring her to me. That is my bargain.” The smirk had grown, stretching across the military man’s face as he started to turn.

“But Hux...” There was a pause, and his heart dropped in that moment’s space, the uncertainty warning him, pleading with him, asking him why he struck this deal. “If you dare break this promise—if you dare try to keep her to yourself, keep her away from me—her blood will not be enough to pay your debt.”

“I will take that risk.” The mumble was quiet, and Hux did not turn back, bitterness biting at his cheek as the sorcerer disappeared from the riverbank, melting into the night air and tinging the wind. The general would not sleep that night, but he didn’t care.

The girl would be his. Even if he lost his soul, he was unconcerned by the matter. Whatever it took to quell the burning eyes of the dead queen. Whatever it took to quell the burning of his heart.

“Where are you, little miss?” The question was absentmindedly whispered into the night, and a breeze whispered by, as if trying to answer, the breath indecipherable but sweet.

 

Blocks away, in the abandoned palace, Rey twisted and turned in her sleep, frowning deepening, brow furrowing. In the morning, she would wake and wonder why the general from the ticket office haunted her with his eyes, why the queen she had danced with earlier in her daydream had sobbed over her and begged for her to run. In the morning, she would watch her world change once more.


	8. Running

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't mean to take such a long break, and frankly, I think this chapter could be a bit better, but I didn't want to keep you all waiting longer. Thank you for your patience--let me know what you think/what you want to see next!

Not for the first time since she stepped foot into the palace, Rey felt out of place, watching the three men bustle around her perch on a large empty baggage trunk, watching them consolidate the needed documents and clothes (some dresses plucked from royal closets, some simple clothes taken from the servants’ quarters) in the middle of the ballroom. They couldn’t take more than what their gathered suitcases could hold, but they were trying, shoving items in where they could fit, the packing job haphazard but thorough.

 They should have been on their way by now, but Poe had insisted on giving his guests time to wake up—not that she personally needed it. She had been awake for most of the night, and though she was weary now, she refused to even think of dozing. She was afraid to sleep, afraid that the crying woman would still be there, behind her eyelids, that the general from the ticket office would be there, beckoning her to…where, she wasn’t sure. Away.

She had wandered the halls, the sliver of moon casting enough light along the rich rugs, to guide her in her searching. It left her unsatisfied, left a gapping in her chest that she couldn’t explain. When she had first came into the ballroom, walked through the rooms, she had been fascinated and oddly fulfilled, as if she belonged. In the night though, she was ostracized, rejected by the parlor, the throne room, even the nursery, and she allowed her feet to carry her wherever they pleased, allowed her feet to try to move her towards happiness, to a spot that would remind her of even a joyful moment.

Rey jolted now as someone brushed past her, the gentle bump forcing her head up, her eyes to follow. Kylo. Throughout this weird transition, this odd plan, she still wasn’t sure if he liked her or not, even now as she remembered the brush of his fingers on the back of her neck, how heavy her necklace sat against her collarbone now, as if he added some emotional weight to it, as if he left something behind last night.

It didn’t matter if he did, she supposed, grimacing at the conman as he looked back at her, slight scowl on his pursed lips. He hadn’t said anything to her all morning, stony faced as Poe and Finn chatted with her, and she wondered now if it had been a dream this morning—if he hadn’t actually found her in the palace kitchen, if he hadn’t led her back to bed, patting her hand, her head, until she closed her eyes again. It must have been—he didn’t seem like the sweet and gentle type, his dark eyes indecipherable as they stared back, as if he was trying to decide his feelings as well.

Last night, Poe had mentioned to her, probably as an apology more than an explanation, that Kylo had known the princess personally. Rey hadn’t asked how—she knew when to mind her own business—and she supposed that she should be grateful that he didn’t consider her a fraud, but she did wonder. How long had this man been waiting to take the princess home? How much had he given up to do so? And—perhaps this was her cynicism getting the best of her, but really, she couldn’t help it—what would he get out of this act of kindness, this risky business? Leaving Russia was no easy task, especially for a conman, a criminal who could be caught—or worse, shot— at any moment. If she wasn’t the right girl, if she just so happened to have a passing resemblance, he was putting his life on the line for…what? Absolution?

She hadn’t noticed that Kylo had doubled back, that he was standing there, expression undecipherable, but then there was his gruff voice, a command breaking through her clouded head.

“Here— hold on to this for me.” She opened her hands immediately, lost in her thoughts but resurfacing from them as smooth metal hit her palms, the convex curves of the music box fitting the dip of her hands just so, the gold glinting against her dirty hands. She looked up at him, eyebrow arching, waiting for him to snatch it back—but Kylo didn’t, shrugging. “If you were going to steal it, you would have last night.” He hesitated, leveled his gaze at her, tips of his mouth quirking, as if he was attempting to smirk but was failing. “Besides, you’re practically the princess now.”

There was a look in his eyes, something she couldn’t quite catch, didn’t quite understand, as she sat there with the music box, looking back up at him. To give her this was a gamble—she could run off, peddle it, abuse this inkling of trust. If she was really cruel, she could crush the pretty thing under her foot, hurl it against the grand portrait looking over them, the painted princess’s sad eyes seemingly glaring as this beggar girl held her treasure, as this friend of hers surrendered it to someone whose face may only have the right shape, the same colored eyes. This was all a gamble, some ill-calculated risk.

But that’s what he liked, wasn’t it? A gamble. That’s what this whole trip was, and there was that thought again, that wondering if he expected to see himself arrive in Paris, if he expected to be caught along the way, if he just wanted to be able to send her ahead with whatever was necessary to win that old royal over, to see something fulfilled.

Rey watched him turn away, and she wondered if he was smiling, even bitterly. Her fingers were wrapping around his hand now, and she wasn’t sure when she had even reached for him, but she didn’t chastise herself. There was no point, and she ignored how natural it was, holding his hand. “Thank you, Kylo.”

If he was surprised, he didn’t show it much, eyes widening for a moment, mouth finally relaxing into a smile that wasn’t completely begrudging. “You’re going to help carry some of this shit, right?” She snorted at him, eyes rolling before she could stop herself, chuckling again as Poe scolded him, insisted that he and Finn could manage, hands on hips as the doctor laughed. She wasn’t sure how long the con’s partner had been watching them, if he had seen their exchange, his lips quirked to a smile even as his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, or maybe worry.

Rey pushed herself up from the trunk, swatting the taller man with as much good nature that she could muster up, a grin finally settling on her face.  “I’m tired, not weak. Give me that bag.” _This man._

She had barely slung the bag over her shoulder when they heard the crash several rooms over, Finn’s eyes lifting to meet hers, glances being exchanged by their guides. They all were still for a moment, as if the splintering wood had been from a child’s snowball, not a soldier’s bayonet, but they all knew better, hearing footsteps, the mumbled questions, the hushed order to _Fan out, search the palace_. _The general said that the girl must have come here, may even be hiding here still._

Kylo watched the girl tense, and he wondered if her limbs had gotten heavier, her face tight, eyes glassy. Did she remember this happening before? Did she remember running from the palace? The answers didn’t matter, and he knew that, glancing behind him, trying to decide how long it would take the group to run to the hallway, to that door hidden by that tapestry, the exit he didn’t get the chance to use all those years ago. He wondered if they’d follow him—if she would follow him—but he had to act now, or else they wouldn’t even see the train for Paris.

“Reyna, come here.” His instruction was barely above a whisper, but Kylo found every eye on him, his two charges’ panic more important right now than his partner’s raised eyebrow. “We have to move—there’s a way, through that door. Follow me.”

Her hand was in his again, the girl quietly twining her fingers with his, and he forced himself to remember that she was also holding Finn’s hand, that she was tugging her friend along, that there was nothing more to look into the gesture. She only wanted to live, and if holding onto him like a vise would accomplish that, she would do so. Rey was built from the need to survive, and this intimacy? Only a means to the end.

That didn’t stop Kylo from squeezing her hand as they ran, the thundering of their strides against the slick floor surely alerting someone—but if it did, they wouldn’t know, hopefully would be out of harm’s way, the secret door just up ahead now.

“You have the music box still, right?” Rey forced herself to nod, fear stealing any will to snark, allowing herself to gulp for air when she saw the relief on Kylo’s face, turned back to see Poe and Finn flanking them. The ballroom doors burst open now, and she flinched, ready to bolt even as the tapestry swung down behind them.

It was too risky to close the door after them—too much time, too much noise, and so they left it ajar, slipping through the dark passage, resurfacing now into the sunlight, squinting eyes trying to decide where to go next. “What’s the quickest way to the station?” Poe’s voice was low with stress, more of a hiss than a whisper, and as Kylo opened his mouth, he knew that he didn’t have an answer.

“Follow me!” Rey was tugging at their sleeves, eyes pleading _Please trust me_. It didn’t matter that, for all they knew, she wasn’t the princess and had never set foot in the capital before yesterday— all they had to go off of now was this girl and her doctor.

She wasn’t sure why she volunteered to lead, nor how she knew where to lead her friend and guides, their feet thudding heavily over the bridge now, onto the other side of the river, the safe side now. She refused to look at the ice, a shiver lacing her spine and curling her lip as she considered it. Rey knew, having tried to run away from the orphanage that, when you’re running away, a lack of footsteps ensure freedom, and that ice would conceal that. But something about the smooth surface repelled her, and so she forced herself on, bag now heavy on her shoulders, limbs and lungs aching from the sudden exertion—but this getaway was easier than another, one that she couldn’t remember…but that one didn’t matter now.

What mattered now as that there was the train station, up ahead, that Poe had the tickets in his pockets, and Kylo had the travel papers in his bag, and that Finn was still by her side and was still going to be safe and sound in Paris with her.

The station’s crowd was thick and jostled her from all sides, and she found her hand taken again, but this time by Finn who nodded forward as they attempted to negotiate the tide of people. There was a bellow, a conductor’s shout on the platform. A train was departing soon, the first train to Paris, and she felt panic seep into her mouth, the taste of it bitter and sour.

She didn’t care if she was going to Paris as a princess, the girl shoving her way through now, desperate to get to the platform, her grip on the doctor’s hand unrelenting still. She couldn’t lose him, this first friend, gritting her teeth and swallowing down tears as someone tumbled against her arm, against her hold, the weight awkward and unwelcome before Finn pushed them off, his mumble soft but indistinguishable in her ear.

“Rey! Finn!” The pair jerked their gazes up, caught a glimpse of Poe, waving to them, holding onto the caboose’s metal frame as other passengers boarded. They didn’t see Kylo. “Come on!” The train was starting to move, the pair hastening their steps, forcing themselves forward. Poe caught Finn’s hand first, hefting him aboard, the locomotive’s pace quickening, Rey struggling to keep up.

“Jump, Rey!” The two men watched her, eyes wide, waving their hands frantically, beckoning her, encouraging her as she reached out to them, fear forcing her lips apart in gasps as she struggled to run faster. She was running out of platform, running out of time. Then she felt the hand on her back, the gentle push that sent her flying forward, hands stretching out blindly, to stop an inevitable fall…but she was caught instead, being lifted up, pulled aboard.

“Kylo!” She only realized now, turning and looking back, seeing him running still, his face scrunched in concentration before he leapt, one hand grasping for dear life on the train car’s railing. He could feel her hands, small and worn, on his other hand. “Don’t let go—do you hear me, you idiot? Don’t let go.” He flashed her a smile, and Rey nearly smiled back, rolling her eyes instead as their companions rushed to her side. “Leave it to you to try and play hero.” He caught her mumble, and he couldn’t help but smirk wider, even as she scoffed at him. “Yeah, yeah, you’re a hero. Keep looking at me like that and you won’t make it to France.”

There were more hands reaching for his now, pulling him up roughly onto the train’s floor. The sigh of relief came unbidden from Kylo’s lips, letting himself be pulled to his feet, grinning still, despite his partner’s scowl. Poe groaned as his look was met with a shrug, shaking his head as he turned on his heel. “I need a drink. I didn’t ask for excitement today.”

Poe knew that Kylo wouldn’t explain himself, wouldn’t explain his reckless rescue, and so he pretended for the rest of the evening that he didn’t see the troubled, confused gazes that the princess and the kitchen boy exchanged when they thought the other wasn’t looking, instead splitting a bottle of vodka between himself and the doctor. It made the other pair’s sniping bearable, the sarcastic jabs continuing long into the night as the train rumbled along, night stars streaking in the dark distance.


	9. Following

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not quite how I wanted it, but it's been too long since an update, so please humor me!

General Hux had always prided himself on being able to stay cool in the face of dismal circumstances. His level-headed ways could be considered indifference by some people, perceived as cold by others, but the fact of the matter was, in times of great pressure and needing results, Armitage always delivered. Except for this instance, this day.

He had failed, and so emotions had gotten the better of him, the man shaking his head and growling at himself as he kicked the glass shards at his feet away. A moment ago, the glass had left his hand, thrown against the nearest wall after he had attempted to drown his failure, but the thought of it again sent him nearly to the brink once more.

The girl had fled from him. The fact was acrid in his mouth, and he knew that even the strongest vodka Russia had to offer would not take it away, would not let him forget. The princess had slipped out of his grasp, practically through his hands, and it left him reeling, cursing once more.

The sky was graying now, the day having drained away despite Hux’s best efforts, despite how sure he thought his plan would be. That was this morning, when he interrogated the soldier at the ticket window, the one who talked with the princess and her companion, he had been confident that she would be in his arms—and in his bed—before the sun set. Now the sunlight stretched across the river, dissolving into a dark, relentless evening, the mixing color somewhat akin to the soldier Mitaka’s blood after Hux had to call in a few of his comrades to “convince” the man to talk. All that violence, and no results.

His soldiers returned empty handed from the palace, their faces tight, their eyes afraid as their superior ripped his office apart, screaming at them to _get out, to find her, so help him god!_ Now the general stood amongst the ripped papers, the overturned desk chair, the torn carpet, feeling his hair prick up with anxiety. Snoke was coming tonight. He cursed his overconfidence now, raising his hand to swipe the contents of his desktop to the floor, hesitating for a moment, eye catching the picture frame.

The little princess stared back at him from the frame, and he wondered if he was going mad already, if he was a fool for begging for her to be his, if he had made a mistake by negotiating with a sorcerer who was only out for blood. Even if he had, it was too late for the military man. Just like it was too late for his heart. He sunk to the floor, taking the picture with him.

 There were dark thunderclouds streaking against the night sky when Snoke appeared without a sound, his cursory glare about the office disdainful and almost pitying, especially when he spied the general, drinking straight out of the bottle, little Reyna’s picture cast aside for now. Decorum had been lost during the wait, and the sorcerer did his best not to scoff at his helper.

“Get up.” The laugh that escaped the general’s mouth was harsh, grating but sullen, and despite himself, Snoke recoiled. The man before him did not seem to realize how dangerous it was to laugh at a moment like this, the sorcerer towering over him, black robes billowing about him, his beloved relic secure at his waist. The emerald glow darkened and swirled, as if they were anxious as well, as if the mere human was instead a demon as well.

“Why should I get up? She’s gone. My soldiers couldn’t catch her.” Hux found himself impudently glaring back at the sorcerer, sitting up now, leaning forward. “If you want her so bad, why don’t you go after her?”

At first, the wrinkled face peering back at him did not move. There was no quirked eyebrow; the mouth did not deepen with a scowl. When it did, it was to pull the lips into a smirk that instantly left the former soldier uneasy, Snoke’s eyes ensuring that the expression was not remotely kind, could not be imagined as friendly.

The blood draining from his face, Hux choked. “Even if I could catch her, I don’t know where she is.” It was a pathetic excuse, but still Snoke smiled, as if it was legitimate, but then he opened his palm.

Nestled there, peering out at him, was an orb, ever expanding. In that bright circle, looking back at him, was Reyna, peeking her out of a train car’s window. Her hair was a mess around her shoulders, not in the bun she had in his office, but her eyes were excited, dancing with interest as she seemed to chirp at someone to come look. Hux lurched forward, as if he could possibly hold her, but Snoke tutted, pulling his hand back, shaking a finger, as if the general was a child impatient for a toy.

“Just a moment, Armitage. Let us see where your little miss has gone to.” Hux grit his teeth at the use of his name, but fell back, scowling instead now at the man who joined Reyna’s company, sitting too close to her even as he scowled, dark eyes almost as curious and as desperate as Hux’s own. The kitchen boy. Bile rose in his throat, but then Snoke coughed, and his attention drifted to the cruel sorcerer.  

“My poor general, it seems to me that you went about it the wrong way.” He paused, waiting for some outburst from the half-intoxicated man, but there was none, impudence gone and replaced with curiosity, with desperation. “Your soldiers are incompetent…after all, they are human.”

In a moment, the relic was being plucked from its place, no longer swinging from the sorcerer’s belt, but in his hands, the green glow brightening as the spirits within danced and growled. Hux’s eyes were captive to the sight, shrinking back as Snoke began to murmur, the relic’s mouth opening slightly, a tendril of light slithering out, and then another and another. The general strained to hear, the whispers indecipherable, so instead the man contented himself with watching the newly released imps soaring above head, circling, watching, waiting for orders.

With a flick of his wrist, Snoke sent the spirits out, bidding Hux to his feet, the two silently watching as the demons slipped out the window, disappearing into the night, their pale green light fading into the coming lightening.

“My helpers, on the other hand, are much more useful. They’ll catch up to her, slow her down until you can get there.” Snoke knew that this wasn’t enough explanation for the man, that he had been shown something so tempting and so infuriating in one glance, and so he smiled, and waited.

“The man with her…”

“Is just one of three companions. No one of importance.” Snoke nearly let himself chuckle at Hux’s sputtering, watching the general round on him, face red. “That man is the reason you didn’t get her the first time! The reason I didn’t get her this time!”

“Now, Armitage, surely you’re not jealous?” With this, the sorcerer sat himself, laughter low and derisive as Hux’s stare hardened, and he hissed. “He’ll be dead by the time I get to him.”

The comment drew Snoke up short, and his eyes snapped to the man, a smile fixing itself for now. “I thought you only wanted the girl…and now you want her companions dead? How cruel, general.”

“I learned it from men like you.” Hux snapped at him, yanking his gaze away as he turned, shutting his eyes, trying to remember Reyna’s momentary smile. Another chuckle, and Snoke evaporated into a whisp of smoke, laughing at him still. _Catch the girl, and we can negotiate that man’s death. He’s of no importance for now._

The words were merely a whisper in his ear, merely a taunt, but Hux shook his head anyways, striding out of his office. He needed to pack, if he was to go on this trip.

He just hoped this madness would be worth it in the end.


	10. Bickering

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I'm finally back at it! I'm sorry for the accidental hiatus-- I had a lot of school/mental health issues that I had to deal with and get sorted before jumping back into this. To make up for that, have an extra long chapter!

He hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her, especially not now as she hummed with delight, sometimes crowing with excitement with her pointer finger jabbing at the window’s glass. In the calm that followed their tumultuous afternoon, the conman supposed that letting the orphan girl provide commentary wasn’t the worst thing. He just wished that she would maybe look his way, help him try and figure out the mess in his heart.

It was obvious that Rey had never been on a train before. Kylo realized this as he watched the girl gaze out the window as the scenery blew by, the train steaming through town after town through the countryside. He shuffled and stretched in the seat next to hers, their compartment small but otherwise comfortable, and though his sleeve brushed hers, the movement didn’t register, didn’t cause her eyes to flicker for even a moment.

Her finger was tracing the skyline now, and Kylo wondered if she was taking stock in how the setting sun’s dark orange mixed and faded into the deepening purple on the horizon, or if he was romanticizing this pretty little stranger, if he was trying to replace the princess with someone else. It was dusk now, the light outside nearly too dim to keep looking, but still, Rey didn’t tear her eyes away, not even as Finn began to snore, the vodka he and Poe had shared earlier strong and calming. Beside him, Poe scribbled away, carefully marking the travel documents with a steady hand and blue ink. Kylo watched his companions, lips tightening with boredom, especially after the excitement this afternoon, his hand still warm from where she had grabbed it.

It may have been boredom, may have just been in his nature, but either way, Kylo shifted in his seat again, nudging Rey’s shoulder, stilling her busy hands as she rubbed her necklace’s pendant for the umpteenth time today. “Stop fiddling with that thing…and sit up straight. Remember, you’re a princess.”

In an instance, her eyes were on him again, her mouth forming a firm line of annoyance, and Kylo bit back a smirk. Across from them, Poe lifted his eyes in interest, an eyebrow following as he sighed. Leave it to Kylo to revert to childhood to flirt with a girl. Poe paused for a second, considered his word choice but shrugged it off, knowing that, even if his partner denied it, the man was flirting. Like a child, no less, and he half expected the man to start pulling on the girl’s hair to get attention. He looked back down at his work, his attention pulled away again as Rey snapped back:

“How is it that you know what princesses do or don’t do?” Her arms were crossed as she purposefully slouched in her seat, daring Kylo to say anything as he leaned towards her, forcing a smile.

“I make it my business to know, sweetheart.” She harrumphed at him, turning back to the window. Poe knew Kylo wouldn’t look over, to see his shaking head, to try and deter the jackass’s next quip, but still, he tried, wincing when the other conman opened his mouth again as he nudged the vexed girl, a glare being tossed over her shoulder.

“Look, Rey, I’m just trying to help, okay?” Poe audibly scoffed at that, rolling his eyes and averting them and feigning busyness as his partner looked over for the first time, brow arched in judgment. The girl only sighed, reaching up and releasing her hair from the tight bun she had pulled it into this morning, smirking as Kylo’s eyes widened for a millisecond, recovering just as she started twirling a strand around her finger.

“Kylo?” Her voice was coy, and even though he knew better, he found himself leaning forward with a smile, a look that she mirrored back charmingly. “Do you really think I’m the princess?” Her voice was breathier as she widened her eyes, pouting a bit, and he audibly swallowed, a bit flustered as he forced himself to remain cool, his smile charming enough to make her breath falter. “You know I do.”

In a moment, the façade dropped, and there was Rey, irritated but still smiling as she shoved his shoulder, sending him sprawling against the compartment’s seat. “Then stop bossing me around _.”_ Poe couldn’t help but chortle at Kylo’s stunned face, not even trying to hide his laughter as the man tossed a betrayed look across the space at him.

“She certainly has a mind of her own.” Poe glanced over, surprised as Finn commented, the amused look on the doctor’s face confirming that he had witnessed most the exchange, grinning at the girl as she fought a smirk, looking back at the window.

“Yeah, I hate that in a woman.” Rey crossed her eyes and stuck her tongue out at the man next to her, turning away quickly as he glanced back at her, bemused look on his face. Poe chuckled again, ticking another mark on the ongoing tally sheet of the pair’s verbal sparring matches. Kylo—five. Rey—thirty.

 

The stars had finally settled in overhead when Kylo reentered the compartment, barely glancing at Rey as he sat down across from her. She glanced up at him and quickly down again, trying to bury her attention into the book Poe had handed to her before the three men left to stretch their legs.

 She hadn’t seen the need to join them, taking the moments alone to watch the moon rise in silence, to let the wonder of what she was doing set in. She was leaving the only home she knew, and it was exhilarating but numbing all at once. She took comfort in the moon, its shape still predictable even as the train carried her far away from the orphanage, from the palace, from Russia.

But now Kylo had returned, alone, with only a murmur to explain their companions’ absence— _they’re busy stuffing their faces in the dining car—_ and Rey could feel her stomach tighten and threaten to flutter about. It was only the two of them, and she was sure that he was still sulking from her barbs earlier, but she couldn’t stand the silence. But still, she said nothing, concentrating on the book, daring him to speak first.

When he had returned from his quick walk, he had expected her to be asleep, as it was late and finally too dark for Rey to avoid his eyes by looking out the window. Instead, she was curled up with a book, humming to herself as she flipped pages, a blanket tangled around her legs. If he had still been sitting next to her, he mused, her feet would practically be in his lap, watching her stretch as she lounged, chewing on her lip as she read. He supposed he was grateful that he was across from her, that the position he would have found himself in beside her would have been too domestic, too familiar. It would have driven him mad.

But still, this silence wouldn’t do. He cleared his throat, watched Rey’s hazel eyes flicker up and then settle back down onto her page. “Look, I think we got off on the wrong foot.”

At first, no response, her eyes still fastened to her book, flicking a page aside as she turned to the next section. He grunted with frustration, sinking into his seat further, about to settle into some sleeping position when she spoke. “Well, I think we did too.”

His smile quirked up on closed lips, and it looked as if he was about to say something more before Rey spoke once more: “But I appreciate your apology.”

“Apology? Who said anything about an apology?” Kylo couldn’t keep the edge of frustration out of his voice, brow furrowing as the girl continued flipping through the pages, nonplussed. “I was just saying that we—”

“Please, don’t talk anymore, okay?” Her eyes had snapped up to him, and he hated how cool her tone was, how unaffected she seemed. He felt his face flushing with anger. _If she was the princess, she wouldn’t be acting like this. Surely, the princess would recognize him, would know better than to tease and bully him. She couldn’t be the princess after all._ “You know it’s only going to upset me.”

Rey had wanted to smirk a moment before, when he seemed flustered over her “misinterpreting” him, but now, as he ran his hands through his hair with agitation, a sweep of his hands drawing attention to his ears, how they reddened with his emotions, she couldn’t muster up the strength to quirk her mouth just so. It all seemed so familiar, and yet, she wasn’t sure why, watching him cover his ears again self-consciously as he spat back:

“Fine! I’ll be quiet.” Then, sullenly: “I’ll be quiet if you will.”

“Oh, I’ll be quiet. You don’t have to worry about that.” Rey watched him scowl at her, his lips coming to a pout as he growled, throwing his feet up on the seat next to her. “Fine.”

“Fine.” She crossed her arms, tossed her head up and away, looking back with annoyance now as he fought for the last word. “Fine.”

 _“Fine.”_ Kylo almost seemed surprised as she snarled it back, but she wished he would stop being so impudent, that he’d leave her be, the two lapsing into silence, eyes trained on the door, waiting for the tension to dissipate as soon as Finn and Poe came back.

“Will you miss it?” Her voice was quiet, and he wasn’t sure if he had heard it, glancing back at her, eyes once again trained on the window, her fingers flat against the glass.

“What, your talking?” He snorted with derision, and Rey’s glare snapped back on him, practically growling at him. “No, you idiot. Russia. Will you miss Russia?”

The question pulled him up short, and Kylo was grateful that she wasn’t looking at him again, unsure as he was. There were many memories in Russia, from working in the royal kitchens alongside his uncle to watching his parents leave him behind to tend to the old king, his uncle following shortly thereafter. There were memories of lonely nights, of washing dishes with tears and a soap cake scarcely larger than his thumb.

Memories of a little princess peeking her head around the door, of not noticing him at first in her late-night hunger, and then later, her visits when she wasn’t hungry, but lonely too.  There was a blur of memories of her stepping on his feet, laughing at his jokes, demanding him to come to the holiday balls, not understanding that they were different classes, pouting at him until he kissed her hand, called her princess. Then there were memories from the time he dubs “after”: after she left, after he lost her, after he turned to crime to survive, after he lost touch with his family, after he lost hope in being fulfilled.

No, he wasn’t going to miss Russia. But she didn’t need to know why. He forced indifference, knowing the orphan’s eyes were intent on him now, almost worried. “Nope.” He popped the p, hoping that his casual delivery would take the emotion away.

Rey was silent and Kylo breathed a prayer of relief. Perhaps she’d take a hint, not press further.

 “But it was your home.” Her voice was almost a plea, confusion, and the man wondered if they were really talking about him missing the old country, or her. Still, he didn’t ask, only grunted. “It was a place I once lived. End of story.”

“Well, then you must plan on making your true home in Paris.” To the unpracticed ear, her forcefully chipper tone would be seen as naivety, as if she didn’t understand that some people wander about, aimlessly, all their lives. To Kylo, it just sounded wistful, as if she was hoping the same for herself, as if she hoped Paris would accept her more than the orphanage, the arms of strangers, ever did. If they had been sweeter and softer with each other, instead of constantly bickering, Kylo supposed that he would entertain Rey’s threadbare dreams. Instead, he huffed.

“What is it with you and homes?” She scoffed at him, throwing her arms up, the rest of her limbs following as she stood. “Well, for one thing, it’s something that every _normal_ person wants.” She moved to get past him, but he stubbornly kept his legs up on the seat, forcing her to look at him, be it to ask him to move or to force him to. It seemed that she settled for the latter, kicking at his legs in frustration. Her throat was tight, he could tell, as if she was trying not to cry in her anger and state of misunderstanding. Still, she continued to kick him, punctuating her pauses with her feet.

“For another thing, it’s a thing…where you… where you…”

“What? Where you what?!” Rey forced herself to look at him, full in the face, his brown eyes trying to glare, but just betraying himself, the pity palpable in his stare. In that moment, she felt ready to blurt her answer, stun him into silence, but surely he wouldn’t understand, the brute.

“Oh, just forget it!” Her cry was shrill, and as the compartment door slid open, she worried that the whole train had heard her, but no, it was only Finn and Poe. Relief flooded her, but still, she glared at Kylo.

“Oh, thank goodness, it’s you! Please remove him from my sight!” Kylo outright laughed at her accusing finger, watching the other two men glance between the bickering pair, stricken but unsurprised. However, his face fell as Poe turned to him, voice harsh.

“What have you done to her?”

Kylo threw his hands up, cursing. “Me? It’s her!” He heard her scoff, saw the flutter of her hands as she stalked out of the compartment, seething as she went. He almost wanted to follow, to continue this fight, this spar, but as Finn’s bemused gaze fell on him, he knew it would be an unwise move.

However, he knew that he couldn’t stay in the compartment, now with Poe and Finn murmuring between themselves. “Oh no, an unspoken attraction?” The smiles were teasing, and if he had been in a different situation, with a different girl, Kylo may have had the wherewithal to laugh.

“ _Attraction?!_ For that skinny little brat?! Have you lost your mind?”

“Jesus, Kylo, it was only a simple question.” Poe rubbed his temples, weary as he watched the taller man throw open the door, muttering as he stormed out:

 Attraction? Ridiculous!”

“Methinks the man doth protest too much.” Despite himself, Poe smiled at Finn, glancing at him. “Those crazy kids…they bicker like an old married couple.” The doctor nodded, settling back into his seat, looking up at the swarthy man as he remained standing as if debating whether to go gather the pair.

“Just leave them. They know their way back. In fact…” Finn’s mouth widened into a grin. “I bet you ten kopecks that they come back together.” Poe chuckled, reaching into his pocket, never one to pass up on a bet. “You’re on.”

 

An hour later, Poe awoke to the compartment door opening with some struggle as Kylo slipped in, Rey cradled in his arms, fast asleep. “You son of a bitch.” Kylo tensed, meeting his friend’s gaze abashed. “You son of a bitch, you just lost me ten kopecks.”

The former kitchen boy said nothing, setting the girl down on the empty upholstered bench, watching her turn over and curl into herself, snoring lightly, before he collapsed in the small space next to her, not asking about the bet’s subject. “Blame her majesty here. When I found her, she was three shots into a bottle of vodka in the dining car.”

In the dim light, he could see Poe’s brow furrow and his mouth smirk. “Why did you go looking for Rey? She would have been fine. If anything, a porter would have brought her back.”

“Goodnight, Poe.” There was that tone, the one that always signaled that the shorter conman should drop the subject, that it may be explained later, maybe not. The smirk grew wider, but he only hummed at his partner. _No attraction, my ass._


	11. Discovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'm so sorry about the wait-- in a few words, life has been shit. I hope this makes up for it in part!

“When do you suppose those slugabeds will wake up?” Finn glanced up from the newspaper to look at Poe, who grinned at him from over his coffee. The dining car was relatively quiet, only a porter and an older couple quietly sipping at their coffee, the dawn light just barely streaming in through the heavy green curtains. After his stint in the army, among the white snow and the brownish gray coats of his commanding officers and fellow comrades, the doctor was still getting used to the bursts of color, letting his eyes settle on his unlikely dining partner instead of wandering in unease.

 

They were safe. They were approaching the country’s border, and soon, they would be past it. Finn tried not to think of the soldiers from the morning before, forcing a smile at Poe.

 

“Considering how they smelled, I’d be surprised if we saw them before noon. I’m surprised that they made it back to the compartment—they probably would have been better to sleep here.” He looked back down at the newspaper, his brow furrowing at the large advertisement on the second page, barely listening to Poe now.

 

“Kylo can be very particular about where he sleeps, and seeing that we have a princess with us, of course he’d bring her ba—hey, what’s the big idea?” Poe sputtered as Finn threw the paper down, snatching the conman by his collar.

 

“Poe, answer one question for me—and I swear to God, if you try to lie—” Finn hissed through clenched teeth, his mind spinning haphazardly, madly trying to make sense of the journey he now actually found himself on. “Do you or do you not believe that Rey is actually the lost princess?”

 

Poe’s eyes widened and then their gaze slid from Finn’s furious one to the outspread paper. Across the black and white print, the advertisement leapt out at him, as if it was written in red, as if his guilt had seen it fit to underline and bold every single word.

 

**TEN MILLION RUBLES FOR THE SAFE RETURN OF THE GRAND DUCHESS REYNA KENOBI OF RUSSIA**

**TO THE CARE OF HER GRANDFATHER, TSAR BENJAMIN KENOBI OF RUSSIA, IN PARIS.**

 

“Look, Finn, I know this looks bad…” Poe trailed off, waving his hand quickly at Finn, as if it would quiet him as he growled.

 

“Answer the question, Dameron. Do you or do you not believe Rey is the princess?” The doctor loosened his grip on his companion’s collar as he visibly crumpled, shaking his head. Beside him, the dining couple had gotten up, glancing their way before leaving, the dining compartment empty now, save for the porter.

 

 _All the better_ , Finn thought bitterly, glaring at Poe, whose gaze remained on the advertisement, as if transfixed. He wondered if it was the man’s first time seeing the advertisement or anything like it, but the weary look in Poe’s eyes only confirmed the few clues he had linked together, and it took everything in him to not storm off, collect Rey from his dishonest partner and find a way of this damn train.

 

Poe’s voice was quiet enough that Finn started at it. He had almost forgotten that the conman actually hadn’t answered him. “There’s a possibility…but no, I don’t.” Poe scrambled to collect his words as the doctor scoffed at him, explaining, “Of everyone I have ever seen in my life, she is the most likely candidate. But face it, Finn—no one knows what happened to the princess. No one. Rey doesn’t remember anything of her childhood before the age of nine, so it’s not like we can even confirm that she’s the real deal.”

 

“Then why even rope her into this?” Finn snapped, watching the other man recoil, surprised at the doctor’s sudden temper. It was as if he, like so many, didn’t believe that Finn had a fighting bone in his body. “Why take her all the way to Paris and promise her a family along the way, only for her to probably get turned away? She doesn’t have any other options, or did you forget about that when you were thinking of the money?”

 

“It was a risk Kylo and I are willing to take. She wanted to go to Paris—you wanted out of the country, which is why you pulled her along with _you._ Aren’t you being a little bit hypocritical, doctor?”

 

“I wasn’t planning on leaving her to fend for herself!” That was perhaps a white lie, and Finn winced at it. Truthfully, he hadn’t thought that far ahead. ‘Get out of Russia’ had been the bulk of his plan and worries, and now that he was on his way out, the future and the possibilities stretched out ahead of him. Still, he squared his shoulders, crossing his arms. “What were you going to do if the old man didn’t take her in? No money for the two of you scumbags—what was your plan then, mastermind?”

 

“We were going to figure it out on the fly—we always do.” Poe carelessly shrugged, turning over the question in his head. Kylo and him would probably just go back to their usual business—conning, forging, stealing. No matter the country, there were always opportunities like that. Still, judging by Finn’s harsh stare, Poe knew that he wasn’t asking because he cared about the conmen’s well-being, and he couldn’t help but admire that.

 

“Trust me, we would find some way to help Rey—and you—if things should go awry. Hell, you could even work with us—we always need more hands with our business.”

 

“I think the hell not.” Finn pushed himself up roughly, willing himself to not take his coffee and throw it in Poe’s pleading face. “I’m getting Rey, and I’m getting off this train. We’ll make it to Paris on our own.”

 

He turned away, stalking towards the door, when the train’s sudden braking sent him stumbling back in surprise, his hand clutching onto a table’s edge to steady himself. “What the hell was that?” He barked, maybe more to himself than anyone else, but judging by the porter’s wary look as he turned away from the conductor, he had an answer.

 

“Military stop. Apparently we have a few fugitives on board,” the porter muttered, his eyes trailing after the conductor, who continued on, presumably to the sleeping cars. He waited until the gangway’s door clapped behind the retreating figure before adding, “Why there has to be a goddamn _general_ along to check a few train cars is beyond me.”

 

Despite his anger, Finn whirled around to exchange a look with Poe, who was paling too. Without a word, the two bolted up, all but running across the gangway, cursing how far their compartment seemed now. Whether or not they continued travelling together, Finn knew that it wouldn’t matter if they didn’t get off the train soon—or better yet, just hide out of sight. Poe seemed to have the same thought, muttering to him as they pushed past a few disgruntled passengers:

 

“Kylo is probably already taking her to the baggage car. Either we hide there or that’s our exit point. I’d prefer the former than the latter—the tickets were more expensive than your coat, and they came out of my pocket.”

 

“Your friend has a talent for getting money out of anyone, doesn’t he?” Finn watched Poe’s lips turn up into a fond grin at the question, even as he was jostled by a swell of people who had stepped into the hallway out of curiosity.

 

“He has a way with words, yes.”

 

“Let’s hope that his silver-tongue is convincing Rey to wake up then—I don’t know about you, but after the fights they got into yesterday, I’ll be surprised if she hasn’t thrown him off the train.”


	12. Escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have another update~
> 
> Many thanks to The Ginger Irritant for motivating me!

Kylo had slept in many odd places since the royal family fell, since he lost Reyna. For the first year after, he had let himself drift from orphanage to orphanage, sleeping curled up alongside other children, none of them the lost princess (even though he wasn't looking then-- no, not at all. He moved through that first year a ghost, numb and unaware of much else besides how his footsteps would ring hollowly in the streets, how the cold air would always find the holes in his socks and gloves.)

 

When he had the nerve to return to the palace, he had tried to curl himself back into his old bed in the servants' quarters, but the mattress felt lumpier, and so he had wandered the halls again, before settling in one of the bedrooms upstairs. He made sure that it wasn't one of the royal bedrooms, sinking into the mattress and contemplating the odd mix of luxury and poverty he found himself in.

 

He had slept in many odd places, but never intentionally besides another person until this train ride, when that beggar girl rolled over in her sleep to lean against his shoulder, muttering something about that bastard Kylo being cuter than she expected. The train jostled him slightly, shaking him gentler than he had been when in service at the palace, when one of the cooks would sometimes aim a well-placed kick to his ribs if he didn’t get up from his cot fast enough.

 

He hadn't been fully awake until this moment, by any stretch. He had just let his eyes crack open for a moment, to see the bench opposite of him to be lacking Poe or Finn, to see early morning light slipping through the window, all gray and barely yellow, just bright enough to hurt his eyes. The thing that woke him was the bundle of warmth beside him, and it wasn't until she shifted closer, sighing and smelling too sweet despite her acrid breath (he blamed the vodka and how she hadn't paced herself with water for the smell), and suddenly Kylo, the man with almost every answer, didn't know what to do.

 

The night before was a bit hazy in his memory—he blamed that again on the vodka, and how he hadn’t touched the stuff in years, not until he had to wrestle the bottle out of Rey’s hands in the dining car, taking a swig (or five) before returning it to the disgruntled looking porter. They should have sobered up before returning to the compartment, and Kylo had considered making the girl walk the length of the dining car with him a few times to make sure she was sure-footed enough to get back to their companions…but then she had stumbled into his arms and obstinately insisted that he carry her. And maybe it was the late hour or the fact that he had never been able to say ‘no’ to Reyna in their previous lives at the palace, but he ended up hoisting her up into his arms anyways.

 

He tried not to think about how a few of the other passengers had smiled at them as he had stumbled his way back to their compartment, how one old crone had asked if they were newlyweds, especially as he tried to extract himself from Rey’s grip. Kylo was glad that she hadn’t been awake for that question, though he did wonder if she actually had been, remembering the sleepy smirk she seemed to give in response, the look having made him nearly teeter and fall, his heart pounding.

 

Still, he had half a mind to settle back into his seat, ignore the girl cuddled up to him, but then the train lurched forward again, and his stomach intuitively sank. Outside their door, the conductor’s bellow carried down the corridor, confirming the fear that had a cold sweat break across his skin: “Military inspection!”

 

He had seen these enough when pickpocketing people at the train station in St. Petersberg—it wasn’t so much as an inspection as a raid, where the contraband was people. People who were unceremoniously thrown off and then dragged away, never to be seen again. And he wasn’t a stupid man—if there was a military inspection on this train, at this hour, chances were, it was because of his group.

 

Of course.

 

Still, he turned to Rey, trying to shake her awake as gently but as quickly as he could, using one hand instead of two. “Rey. Reyna. Sweetheart. Her highness. Pain in my ass. C’mon, wake up.”

 

Kylo winced to himself as she continued to snooze, her snore almost mocking him as it droned on. He rolled his eyes, bringing both of his arms up to bracket hers as he shook her again. For a moment, he wondered how the girl woke up usually—if it was gentle, a stirring followed by a yawn and blurry blinking, or if she started up, practically pounced awake, like he did after one of his many nightmares. Nightmares…which he didn’t have last night. He shook his head at himself, cursing under his breath for wasting this time thinking when at any moment, soldiers could be pounding at their door.

 

“Rey, c’mon, girl. Let’s get up.” She still didn’t stir, and Kylo hummed to himself, a thought flickering to the forefront of his mind, an inspiration. “Rey, if you don’t get up, I’m taking your breakfast.”

 

He supposed that he could count it as a success, considering how she jolted in his arms, her hand coming up to smack him in the nose as she gasped awake. “You wouldn’t dare, Anna!” She blinked at him blurrily, harrumphing at him grumpily. “You’re not Anna.”

 

“No, but I think you broke my nose.” Kylo muttered back, cupping a hand over his face as if to guard himself from further harm. Rey opened her mouth, probably to say something acrid and clever (the girl seemed to have a one-liner for every occasion), but he shook his head, pressed a finger to her lips for a moment to silence her. “We gotta go.”

 

“Go? Are we already in France?” Rey shrunk back from his touch, ignoring how warm the press of his finger had been against her lips. She nearly turned away, snuggled back into the seat when Kylo shook his head again, his hand catching her shoulder before she could sink back into the cushions. Her limbs felt heavy, like she had slept fitfully, like she had actually had been regaining all of the rest she had neglected in the orphanage. And yet, she felt more alert now, watching Kylo’s head jerk away from her, as if listening for heavy footfalls or gunfire, and she found herself doing the same. Outside the door, there was only a growing murmur of voices and soft shuffling—nothing to worry about at the present.

 

 Despite herself, she shivered and let herself fall silent, Kylo’s words both hushing and soothing:

 

“It’s just a military inspection, but after that run-in at the palace, we should probably hide, don’t you think?” He could have almost cried with relief as she nodded solemnly, catching himself before he could press a kiss to her forehead, as if she was the lost princess. As if she was his. “Okay, sweetheart. Grab your bag and let’s go.”

 

Kylo had always found that it was difficult to be stealthy, especially when there seemed to be an ever-growing crowd in a small space. His manners, learned from the days in the palace, had always dictated that he was invisible in everyone’s sight except for other servants, and despite the decade he had to unlearn it, he always slipped back into it, tensing up at the crush of people outside the compartment door, all but blocking the corridor and subsequent gangways. And yet, with Rey’s hand clasped in his, with her pulling him along, her glances back at him almost caring, he seemed to move quicker, almost more confidently. He pretended that he didn’t notice how hard she was squeezing his hand, how chipper she sounded as she pardoned and excused their way through the crowd, the slight bite of cold wind nipping at their hands as they crossed the first gangway.

 

Suddenly, Rey froze, her hand almost stuck to train car’s door handle. Kylo peered down at her and then over her head, through the door’s small window. He didn’t know what made her freeze, but the flash of military medals had him cursing and he dropped Rey’s hand.

 

“Put this on and keep your head down,” he hissed at the gust of wind that swept down his back as he yanked off his coat and dropped it over Rey’s head. He swiped a hand over the grease and dirt covered floor, wiping it across his face, his moles and freckles, gathering her closer to his chest and pulling her back as the door burst open, a few soldiers trailing past them without a second look. Kylo held his breath still, keeping his eyes trained on his feet as he shuffled Rey forward and into the train car.

 

He jolted when he felt a hand settle over his, but it was only Rey’s small one finding his again, but as he saw the shiny black boots of an officer approaching them, he understood why. This was out of necessity, not because she wanted to. Kylo bit the inside of his cheek as the officer bumped into him and he kept his eyes down.

 

“Where are you off to, citizen?” Kylo froze at the voice, daring to peek up for a moment to see the red hair that he’d forever associate with the voice. Of course, the leading officer for this damn inspection was the boy who gave him a concussion a decade ago on the worst night of his life. Grimacing, he kept his gaze rooted on the man’s boots, trying to think of an excuse as he glanced at Rey, how she cradled her bag close to her stomach.

 

“To the dining car, sir. My wife is pregnant and sick. The porter promised us some bread for the morning to ease her nausea. It’s our first.” He smiled almost apologetically at the officer, pulling Rey closer, grateful that her face was still hidden by the makeshift hood of his coat. He still didn’t look up, praying to whatever god there was that his feeble attempts at a disguise were enough, his neck hurting by how long he had been keeping his gaze down.

 

If the man had been suspicious, he looked thoroughly chastened, if not a bit curious, stepping aside without a word, just a curt nod. Kylo hoped that his relieved exhale wasn’t too loud as he pushed Rey forward, not daring to look back. He was sure the man’s eyes were still on them, and so he kept his arm slung tightly around the girl.

 

As soon as they cleared the gangway, Rey looked up at him, her face relaxing and coloring. Kylo wondered if she had gone pale during that small brush with authority, and then he heard her murmur, “That was the man who caught me and Finn at the station when we first tried to get papers.”

 

“Yeah? That fucker gave me a goose egg on the back of my head when…when the palace fell.” Rey’s face clouded dark when he muttered that, and he squeezed her hand, as if to tell her to cheer up.

 

“I’m sorry.” He hated how her words almost forced him to still, to steady himself. He glanced back at her, feeling the tumult of anguish and confusion threatening to break out across his brow and he shook his head slowly.

 

“Don’t apologize. It wasn’t your fault.” They stood on the passenger car’s threshold for a moment, staring at each other. Kylo watched Rey draw in a breath and open her mouth, and he was almost anxious to hear what she would say.

 

The door flew open before Rey’s lips could utter anything, and Poe bashfully grinned at the two of them. “So glad you could join us. And that neither of you killed the other.”

 

Behind him, Finn harrumphed, skirting past the two conmen and to Rey, gathering her up and leading her a pace or two away to look her over. Kylo bit his cheek again as the doctor unceremoniously dumped his coat onto the floor and replaced it with his own.

 

As Kylo stooped down to collect his coat, ignoring the bile coating his throat (it was fine that she was wearing someone else’s coat; besides, he wanted his back sooner than later), Poe nudged him carefully. “So, Kylo…old buddy, old pal…”

 

“What the fuck is it, Dameron?”

 

Poe almost seemed to gulp, keeping his voice low and his eyes trained on their travelling companions as he muttered, “What if I told you the good doctor may have picked up on our plan?”

 

Kylo didn’t have the chance to blink, let alone process his partner’s words when, with a roar, the baggage car’s back end splintered, the car torn asunder from the rest of the train. And yet, he watched them grow smaller in the distance, his ears finally picking up on the fact that the previously stagnant locomotive was now hurtling down the track, with them at its mercy. Yet again, his stomach sank, and he knew that even if he was stupid enough to check for the train’s engineer, he’d find it futile, seeing that the general had been in the company of the train’s engineer.

 

Not for the first time, Kylo wondered if he should start believing in magic or curses. At this rate, it wouldn’t surprise him in the slightest if someone—probably him—had been cursed with bad luck.

 

 The man wasn’t sure who or what he was glaring at now, his mind simply trying to comprehend how many things could go wrong all at once when Rey slipped up next to him and Poe, casually tossing them a few bags. “These looked the softest, which I figured is the more important criteria for what we’re about to do,” she explained, Finn standing beside her, his lips pressed in a firm, unhappy line.

 

“Excuse me?” Poe sputtered next to Kylo, the taller man glancing behind Rey to see the loading door to the car thrown open, the snow-driven landscape seemingly whipping past them. He knew what the orphan girl was going to suggest, and he braced himself for it all the same:

 

“I’m pretty sure that it’s clear that this is our stop, don’t you?” Despite the circumstances, Rey forced a smile, linking one hand with Kylo, the other hand gathering her bag (as well as a few extra, the man noted, trying not to smirk). She nodded at the open door, and Kylo wondered if he had gone completely insane, hesitantly stepping up to the door with the girl. She was going to be the reason he died, he was sure.

 

“On the count of three?” He asked weakly, and Rey smiled indulgently before shaking her head. “Now!”

 

The snow didn’t hurt as much as Kylo expected, which he was grateful for. What did hurt was Rey landing on his legs, and he couldn’t suppress the curse that flew from his lips. Next to him, Rey was laughing (perhaps out of relief, perhaps out of pure insanity—he resolved himself never to ask) and whooping as she watched Poe and Finn follow their lead, their shouts muffled in the snow now.

 

“Are you okay?” Kylo blinked up at Rey, wondering when her attention had landed back on him, and he felt his mouth go dry. Before he could nod, take her hand, get hoisted up, they heard Poe’s yell.

 

“Holy shit, that could have been us!” Following the direction of his pointing finger, the group watched, dumbstruck, as the savaged train attempted to cross a bridge—and failed, the bridge slowly crumbling underneath it.

 

“That settles it. No more trains. Ever. I’m done with trains.” Finn muttered darkly, and Poe shrugged at Rey and Kylo as they trudged to join them. For the moment, it seemed that the doctor had forgotten about his discovery, but Kylo knew that it would come up later, and he wondered if he should offer him a share of the money, or merely beg him to say nothing to Rey.

 

He pushed it aside, turning to look at Rey instead, his lips closing in a small smirk. “If I didn’t know better, princess, I’d think that you’re starting to like me.”

 

“What?” Rey’s mouth dropped open despite herself, her hands stilling instead of brushing the rest of the snow off her dress, her teeth chattering slightly. With her reddening cheeks, she did almost remind Kylo of a princess out of some fairytale. Not _his_ princess, of course—but one nonetheless.

 

“Admit it, sweetheart—you wanted to hold _my_ hand when we jumped. You must like me just a bit more than you want to admit.”

 

Rey considered him for a moment, listening to Poe and Finn murmur quietly to each other, checking one another for injury. She leaned towards Kylo, wondering if her heart was pounding from adrenaline or from his smug little smirk. She tried not to think of how close he had held her on the train, how she had wanted to bury her nose into his coat, how it felt like she had come back to her senses when Finn had traded Kylo’s coat for his own—and how she wanted the taller man’s coat around her shoulders again.

 

Coming closer to him, she bit her lip, looking at him through her eyelashes, wondering if his Adam’s apple bobbed slightly with a gulp as he watched her. “Maybe you’re not completely wrong. But can I tell you a secret, Kylo?”

 

He grinned back at her, leaning closer. “Of course you can, princess.”

 

She simpered at him, leaning closer still as she stage-whispered: “I only held your hand so that if I fell under the wheels, I’d drag you with me.”

 

Rey tried to quell her smile as Kylo threw his head back and laughed, holding his hands up in surrender. She didn’t notice how Finn’s worried eyes followed her and Kylo, how he chewed his lip, trying to decide if he would take the money that Poe had offered to split with him if they made it to Paris with Rey in tow.

 

* * *

 

Far beyond their sight, hidden in some dark corner of the world, Snoke cursed and seethed, watching the little princess laugh. Even with his little imps’ destruction and Hux’s interference, the little bitch had gotten away. This wouldn’t do.

 

Scowling to himself, the sorcerer forced himself to relax, his face smoothing into a disgusting smile. “Very well, Reyna. Enjoy your little victory. I’ll see you in your dreams. You can’t run then, can you, my dear?”

 

With a growl, Snoke let himself slip into the night’s ether. In due time, he would have her in his grasp, at his mercy. Until then, he had to content himself with punishing another, and he let his mouth curl up into a smirk at the thought of torturing the poor general named Hux. It was just another price to be paid for his incompetence.


End file.
